


A Really Bad Idea

by saintwillherondale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Love, Love/Hate, Mutual Pining, Romantic Fluff, Smut, Wandless Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23154505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintwillherondale/pseuds/saintwillherondale
Summary: Hermione and Draco's tension has finally reached its peak.She wants him. He wants her. They hate each other. What more can I say?Mature Content Warning!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 194
Kudos: 696





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These chapters happen after a few accidental twists. For example: both Hermione and Draco are Head Girl and Boy. They’re in their seventh year and no battle with Voldemort has still happened.
> 
> Also, as far as I remember, there is no Prefect’s Common Room, but I made one anyway because there should be one.
> 
> This was inspired by the beautiful art that Elithien draws for dramione. Check them out on their twitter: https://twitter.com/elithienart  
> Because God are they ridiculously talented!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> And, as always, comments are so appreciated!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe.

* * *

Hermione Granger was having an amazing day.

She just got the highest mark on her very difficult Ancient Runes quiz. The book on the History of Demonology was returned to the library, and in her schoolbag, thumping against her thigh. Harry and Ron were out on the field practicing for their next Quidditch performance. The sun was out, the warm rays filtering through the large windows as she walked through the hallway. The windows were a bit cracked, letting in a bit of the cool autumn air that she enjoyed, dancing between her curls.

They were even serving her favourite lunch today. Roast beef and potatoes on the side.

Nothing could ruin today.

Nothing could ever ruin such a—

“And that’s fifty points from Gryffindor,” drawled a sneering voice that could only belong to one person. “And I’m in a good mind to hex you with a week’s worth of being tongue tied.”

Draco Malfoy was standing in front of a terrified third-year Gryffindor student who was clutching his books to his chest. Malfoy, on the other hand, looked as cool as a cucumber, his eyes narrowed with malice and his lips pulled into a smirk.

“What the _hell_ are you doing, Malfoy?” Hermione snapped, throwing her bag to the floor.

He looked at her, lowering his head a few centimeters, and she felt her blood flare with anger. It was such a patronizing gesture at how much taller he was than her that Hermione was in a mind to kick him in the shins.

“I’m performing my Head Boy duties.” His grey eyes were dripping with contempt and the malice was making way for his hatred for her to seep out. “Move along, Granger.”

Hermione glowered. “Fifty points? Hexing? Those are your Head Boy duties?”

He didn’t say anything, his stare never breaking.

Hermione nodded towards the third-year who was sweating bullets. “Go.”

He needn’t be told twice, picked up his bag and scampered away,

“ _Locomoter Wibbly_ ,” Malfoy lazily said, pointing his wand at the student.

He gasped, immediately falling to the floor heavily, books falling everywhere as his legs were unable to hold him up.

“ _Stop it_!” Hermione said furiously, pointing her wand and uttered the counter-jinx. “Leave!” She said to the student, and he didn’t even look back, catching his bag and books again and half-crawling, half-running into the next corridor.

“What the _fuck_?” she spat. “That is an abuse of power! What the hell is wrong with you? You are _at least_ four years older than him! This is bullying. Let’s see Snape defend you with this. McGonagall will kill you.”

Malfoy’s smirk deepened. “Please, be my guest. We’ll see if your biased opinions of me will hold up when brought to McGonagall.”

Hermione snorted. “Um, have you not heard what I’ve just said? The fifty points and the hexing you just did in front of my eyes? Added to that the student is a Gryffindor, and we all know how you feel about us.”

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair. His robes shifted with the motion, his sweater pressed against his chest and Hermione commanded herself not to be distracted. She didn’t have the slightest idea if he knew about the thoughts that circled her mind during the dead of the night. Thoughts she never even uttered to herself.

That Draco Malfoy was the only person in this entire damn school who challenged her intellectually. That their unspoken battle of who gets the highest marks in their classes was something of a near thrill for her. That studying to beat him, to make him eat his words like crow, was a high she had always craved but only just discovered she did. That when they were paired up for that one Transfiguration homework, she couldn’t stop herself from watching the way his eyelashes, nearly colourless, were long, brushing against his cheeks. Those cheekbones of his that she wondered if were as sharp as his wit.

And not to mention, worst of all, the thought of that mouth of his hot against hers.

But those were dreams she attributed as nightmares.

Malfoy took a step forward towards her, and Hermione immediately went into defense mode, her hand flying to her wand and she pointed it directly under his chin.

“Stay back,” she snarled.

He lifted his chin, still smirking. “Would you believe me if I told you?”

Her brows furrowed with confusion. “I—”

“Think carefully, Granger,” he said, licking his lips, and Hermione’s traitorous gaze darted to them and back. “We could so very easily take this to the professors.”

She gripped her wand tightly. “Fine. Tell me.”

“Tsk, tsk,” he laughed, and a few blonde stray hairs fell across his eyes. “Would. You. _Believe_. Me?”

Hermione hated this. Here she was, _holding_ her wand at him, and he acted as if he were the one with the upper hand.

But two could play at that game. There was always lying.

“Yes,” she replied tersely.

He raised his eyebrows as if he knew she meant the exact opposite. But even that was a lie. Hermione didn’t know whether she would believe him or not.

Malfoy nodded his head to the side. “Do you know where we are?”

She looked to where he was pointing. “The hallway by the second floor beside Charms class?”

“Very good,” he replied as if he were the teacher and she was a slow-learning student. “And what is also in this hallway?”

She racked her brains. A broom closet? A weird painting? Not the Room of Requirement because that was on the seventh floor.

Malfoy groaned. “Smartest girl in our class doesn’t really know everything, does she?” And before she could spit out a retort, he continued, “The girls’ bathroom. There’s a girls bathroom right from where I caught your brave Gryffindor.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she lowered her wand with shock.

“He was peeping,” he said and took out his wand before swishing it at the wall where a small hole was revealed. “So much for honor and chivalry.”

“I—” Hermione began, but she had no idea what to say. He wasn’t lying. The hole was right there.

“How does it feel to know your house isn’t as decent as you thought it to be?” Malfoy said smugly.

Her eyes whipped back to him, temper snapping. “One bad person doesn’t immediately villain-fy the whole people.”

His lips parted open in triumph, and Hermione realized what she had said.

“But that doesn’t include _you_ ,” she said darkly. “You’re a bully and you hate Muggleborns. Not to mention the personal vendetta you have against Gryffindors. One incident of decency isn’t enough to erase all that.”

His sneer disappeared with each word she said until all that was left was anger. He closed the distance between them.

“Bully?” he repeated. “ _Bully_?”

His eyes were made of storms, but Hermione wasn’t backing down.

“You always have the higher moral ground, don’t you, Granger?” he snapped. “Gryffindors keeping the bad Slytherins away. You, who could never do no harm. Break the rules as much as you want, and you get away with it thanks to Dumbledore. Don’t you dare preach from your pedestal when you only listen to one side of the story. Do you know how many first-year students I had to console after they were booed once the Sorting Hat placed them in Slytherin? Booed by _your_ Gryffindors? By the _whole_ school! You’ve painted us the enemy before we had a chance to even speak a word in our defense! So, get off your high broomstick, Granger!”

Hermione’s heart beat against her ribs in a painful way.

“I don’t have a problem with Slytherins,” she said in a low voice. “I have a problem with you.”

Malfoy snorted, turning away from her. “Sure, Granger.”

Her patience broke and she yanked his shoulder back. His eyes widened with surprise before catching the fury in her expression.

“ _Mudblood_ ,” she hissed, pushing her hands against his chest until he was backed against the wall. “You’ve called me Mudblood over and over again. You’ve made fun of my teeth and jeered whenever Snape put me down. You’ve taken every chance you got to put my friends and I in trouble. You worked with _Umbridge_. When she was the _whole_ school’s enemy. Your family’s drenched with the blood Voldemort spilled when he reigned. _You_ didn’t let us be friends. _You_ were the one who made me doubt whether I belonged at Hogwarts. I, who came from no magic. How was I supposed to know and untangle the intricate web of horrors and politics as an eleven-year old?”

Malfoy swallowed hard, his jaw clenched, a certain something flickering behind his eyes.

“So,” he said in a low voice after a few minutes of them staring into the other’s eyes. “We’ve both burned a bridge before it was built.”

His gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there for longer than they should.

And the next second, Hermione didn’t know how, her lips were crashed against his.

The kiss was something out of a deep dream she once had. One that she still felt the aftermaths of when she woke up, heart hammering, drenched in sweat.

His arms encircled around her, holding her closer to his body before turning her around so she was the one pressed to the wall.

Hermione gasped as Malfoy’s kisses turned deeper and rougher, his hands grasping at the sides of her neck. He dragged each kiss until she felt it beginning from her lips and ending at her tiptoes. Until she was desperately clinging to his jumper before sneaking her hands under it, coming in contact with his skin. He sighed in her mouth, and a thrill shot through her like firewhisky.

Malfoy broke away from her lips but didn’t stop. Rather, he scattered kisses and love bites along her jawline before dropping to her neck where he sucked, almost cruelly.

Hermione’s knees buckled, and she withdrew her hands away from exploring his chest, all the hard ridges of it, to hold on to his shoulders. He was invoking magic with the way his kisses were making her head lose all the train of thoughts. With the way she was curling her toes and tilting her head to the side so he could kiss even more.

But there was one thought still in her mind.

Hermione Granger, rational as always, even with Draco Malfoy’s hand trying to sneak under her shirt, knew they should not be doing this.

Not here.

“Stop,” she murmured weakly, thinking he wouldn’t hear her. But he did, and he sprang back three feet away, leaving her clothes rumpled, and body yearning for his touch.

His pale face was flushed, his lips redder than they ever have been, and his chest was heaving with each breath he took.

He inhaled deeply. “Granger, I’m sorry. I—I don’t know what got into me. Just—”

“Shut up,” she interrupted, banging her head lightly against the wall. “I’m trying to _think_.”

Her thoughts were as weightless as clouds.

Not here. They should not be doing this in the corridors. Where anyone could walk by. Even the ghosts would talk.

“Not here,” she said after a while.

He looked at her, confused, which only deepened when she picked up her schoolbag and grabbed his hand, dragging him along with her.

“Wha—” he cleared his throat. “Where are we going?”

“Prefect’s Common Room,” she said, looking ahead. “We can’t go back to yours nor mine. The Prefect’s one would be empty now. Besides there are multiple beds there and a few spells uttered and we’d have our privacy.”

Hermione couldn’t believe the words she was saying. But this has been a buildup of sexual tension since she slapped him during their third year, and it was all coming out now. Every part of her wanted him. No. _Needed_ him.

When he didn’t say anything, she glanced back. “Are _you_ okay with that?”

“ _Ye_ —” his voice broke and he nodded instead. 

He was looking absolutely befuddled, his usually perfect hair sticking from all edges.

It’s a good look on him, Hermione mused.

The Prefect’s Common Room was situated on the fifth floor. Three floors up. And it was the longest walk Hermione had ever taken in her life. Especially with Malfoy’s hand in hers. They nearly ran into a group of fifth-year Ravenclaws before he tugged her behind a statue of a fox. But other than that, they encountered no one.

Soon enough, they were both breathing heavily, their palms sweating and standing in front of the Prefect’s Common Room where the painting of a woman dressed in furs and a top hat raised an eyebrow at them.

“Password?” she asked sultry.

“Cinnamon cakes,” they said in unison before looking at each other and glancing away just as quickly.

The door opened, and Hermione was pleased to find that she was right. The common room _was_ empty. It was 1:30 pm on a Wednesday. Everyone was either outside, enjoying the scarce, warm sun or in the Great Hall shoveling food in their mouths.

Hermione had always liked the Prefect’s Common Room. It was quieter than the Gryffindor’s and second best only to the library. Here, she could sit reading for hours, looking out into the Great Lake and the mountains that covered the horizon. No one would bother her here. Certainly not Harry and Ron’s dumbassery.

The couches were the softest ones she ever sat on and there were places to sit by the large windows. A fireplace crackled quietly in the corner, the flames licking at a set of fresh logs. The colours of all four houses were draped from the ceiling showing unity, and there was a wide bookshelf that was stocked courtesy of her. And Malfoy.

On the other side, a small corridor lead to the various beds and couches Prefects and the Head Boys and Girls could use for some peace. Each one looked like a small room and the bed was wide enough to accommodate two people comfortably with a curtain for privacy. Hermione didn’t know if the students themselves had arranged it to be so or if the beds were like that from the start.

She turned towards Malfoy and almost jumped when she saw that he was staring at her.

“No one’s here,” she said haughtily. “I was right.”

He rolled his eyes.

“There’s a bed towards the end there. I use it sometimes to nap when there are parties in our common room,” she said, pulling him towards it. “It overlooks the Great Lake at a place where the sun sets and I—”

She stopped, her cheeks going pink, and when she looked at him, prepared to defend herself against any insults he’d throw at her, she saw that his expression was full of surprise.

“Never mind,” she muttered.

“No,” he said, one of the corners of his mouth lifting. It looked almost… endearing.

Hermione banished the thought from her mind immediately. This wasn’t something where feelings were going to be involved. This was an itch she was going to scratch. Nothing less. Nothing more.

The bed was covered in a white sheet and multiple throw pillows strewn over it. Hermione imagined Malfoy’s weight on top of her, sinking her into the soft mattress and she didn’t have to wonder for long when he spun her around and kissed her.

Her schoolbag fell to the ground and she toppled on the bed with him over her. Her hands busying around his necktie, pulling it off and him tugging on her shirt.

He had the presence of mind to break away from her lips and point his wand at the corridor.

“ _Muffliato_ ,” he murmured before closing the curtain on them.

“Smart thinking,” she said, turning his face back to hers.

The red on his cheeks was mesmerizing but not as mesmerizing as the colour of his eyes. They looked like the sea after a storm. Like the sky in a frosty winter morning.

“One of us has to keep their wits about,” he said, smirking.

He swallowed her retort in a kiss, and she could almost laugh at how incredible it was that she could be so quickly pacified. By _Draco Malfoy’s lips_.

He explored the inside of her mouth with his tongue, lightly sucking on her lower lip and Hermione saw stars burst behind her eyes. This was better than anything she had ever felt in her life. Better than any kiss she experienced with Viktor Krum and others. But then again, she was just a fourteen-year-old girl back then with zero experiences. Now, seventeen-years-old and she had had a few shares of kisses. And she could safely say, from all the research she had conducted, Draco Malfoy knew how to kiss, and he knew how to kiss _well_.

His tie was on the floor, and soon enough, his jumper joined it, leaving him in his white shirt.

Hermione grumbled, pushing him off her and attacked the buttons on his shirt.

“Why are you wearing so many clothes?” she complained. “Today’s warm.”

Malfoy laughed. “I get cold. Easily.”

She blinked, her mind running through a list of what the cause could be. _Anemia, for one_ , she thought. And she wouldn’t put it past him, seeing how pale he was.

But pale did not mean weak. Not in his vocabulary anyway.

He was still the Slytherin’s seeker, and his physique proved it just.

He looked like a Michelangelo sculpture come alive, and her eyes studied what her fingers felt when she was pressed against the wall. But now she could see the scars where Harry’s _Sectumsempra_ slashed through him and she traced her fingers over them. They were entwined over his arms to his chest and one was licking at his neck.

When she glanced back up at his eyes, she saw suppressed mirth and cockiness. “Like what you see, Granger?”

She bit her tongue. “Are we going to talk or are we going to fuck?”

He startled, and then shook his head. “Are you feeding some sort of sick fantasy? Getting high over sleeping with your enemy?”

“Then why are _you_ here?” she fired back. “You want this as much as I do.” She glanced down between them. “Or else you could take care of _that_ by yourself.”

He clenched his jaw with annoyance before reaching up to tuck a curl of her hair behind her ear. The gesture was opposite to the expression on his face which only made Hermione feel more confused.

Then the look changed to that of a secret one and he leaned forward, planting his arms on either side of her, a slow grin tickling his lips. She fell back against the pillow, her heart thundering.

“If you want to fuck, Granger,” he said smoothly, his tone dropping a few octaves. “Then we’ll fuck.”

The words died in her throat when he pressed his lips against hers in a slow kiss, and his hands pulled at her tie and then shirt.

“Up,” he hummed against her mouth and she obliged. He threw it to the side and leaned back on his knees to take her in where she lay under him, wearing only her purple bra and school skirt.

“How many boys and girls are in this school who would only dream of having the illustrious Hermione Granger half-naked and looking so helpless under their touch?” he murmured.

“I’m not helpless,” she snarled, and the bed rumbled and creaked. “I beat you in wandless magic, don’t you forget that.”

“So you did.” He smirked and pressed his lips to the side of her neck where his hands started unhooking the clasps of her bra, his fingers skimming over her like a ghost of a touch. “Don’t kill me for doing this.”

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and she felt the cool attack of air around her when the bra fell off the bed. She didn’t open her eyes even when she felt the burn of his stare on her chest. Not even when his hand enclosed around one of her breasts and she fisted the blanket. Not even then. Not even when, after a few seconds, he reached down and took it in his mouth.

She gasped, and his tongue teased her. Still she refused to open her eyes.

“Why are your eyes closed?” she heard him ask against her ear. “What are you so afraid from, Granger?”

 _You_ , she wanted to say. _I don’t want to look at you and see the way you stare at me_.

But instead, she deadpanned, “I read an article that said the absence of one sense raises the intensity of others.”

He stilled on top of her for a few seconds before she felt his body shake with laughter that spilled out of his mouth.

“An article?” he repeated. “Fuck the article. Open your eyes.”

She shook her head. “Thank you, I’m quite all right here.”

He brushed his nose against hers. “Look at me,” he whispered and she heard him over the beat of her heart. 

Hermione swallowed hard and raised her arms to cover herself. From the chill, from him. She didn’t know.

His fingers brushed over her cheek. “What’s happening, Granger? Do you want to stop?”

She shook her head again.

“Then?”

She reached up blindly, making out the direction where his voice was coming from before clumsily cupping his cheeks between her hands and kissing him.

“You said we’ll fuck, we’re not fucking. Unless we have different meanings to it.”

She knew he was giving her a disbelieving look.

“Fine,” he said with a hint of finality. “Suit yourself.”

He went back to kissing her, and she went back to feeling and discovering every inch of him. His trousers were still on him, and that was something Hermione didn’t like, and so while he busied himself with her lips, she trailed her hands down until she slipped them under and touched him.

He gasped, a shudder running through his muscles, and she touched him once more, wanting to hear that sound from him again.

“Granger,” he choked out. “What are you doing?”

She smiled and lightly trailed her fingers along the length of him.

He moaned.

Draco Malfoy, pompous brat and the son of one of the elites, moaned because of her, Hermione Granger.

Now that was a sight she had to see.

She opened her eyes slowly only to see that his were closed, his face wholly unguarded. His signature smirk was gone, his lips slightly parted open, his hair falling over his eyes and there was none of the hate that soured his expression. He looked young. A boy of seventeen who was in bed with a girl.

And Hermione had to remind herself of all the reasons she hated Draco Malfoy.

She didn’t want to think about how he stopped calling Mudblood at the start of last year. That when one Slytherin did, Malfoy’s face looked like a storm. That when they both became Head Boy and Girl, they were finding less reasons to hate each other and more to become rivals. That she knew the reason Gryffindor won the last Quidditch match was because he kept looking at her and missed the snitch that was hovering right beside his head. That he was unearthing all the prejudice that had been planted in him since he was brought into this world, and even though it was messy and he relapsed at times, he was still moving forward. She didn’t want to think of Draco Malfoy changing and becoming better because that would mean she’d see him in a different light.

And then she remembered the way his eyes flickered with a certain emotion after she yelled at him.

It was regret.

An intense storm of regret eating away at his soul and Hermione realized that he didn’t feel himself worthy of forgiveness. Not even if he were to change every single cell in him.

“Hey,” she murmured, and he fluttered his eyes open.

He looked like he was in pain.

She removed her hand and he involuntarily groaned in protest.

“I’m still wearing my skirt,” she whispered.

The haze of pain cleared and his mischievousness jumped back out.

“We can’t have that now.” He pressed a long kiss to her lips. “And you’re looking at me.”

Hermione couldn’t explain why those five words hurt her heart in an achy kind of way.

He slid down, hooked his fingers in her waist and, in one motion, dragged it along with her undies, and they were thrown on the floor.

She was naked with Draco Malfoy studying every single curve and edge of her with his grey eyes. His mouth was dropped open, and it took every ounce of self-control for her not to grab the blanket and cover herself.

Instead, she watched him watch her, her arms raised above her head. His gaze trailed slowly from her legs to her thighs to her stomach and breasts above to her neck and finally her face and dark brown hair that was draped over the pillow. 

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed and immediately looked shocked with himself. 

She was on fire. She knew she was. Because how else could she explain the rise in her body temperature that was about to reduce her to ash.

“If you don’t start fucking me, I’m going to scream,” she said and the intensity in the air lifted.

“I’m going to touch you first,” he replied, stretching himself beside her on the bed, his long fingers dancing along her ribcage and further down to between her thighs.

Hermione gasped but his mouth had already covered hers. He kissed her cries, taking them in his mouth as his fingers teased and stroked until she was constricting her legs and squirming under his touch. Her hands clawed at his back, dragging her nails deeply until she was sure she must have drawn blood. There was too much happening all at once, and all she wanted was to feel even more.

He was holding her on the edge, not letting her fall when she realized he was doing it intentionally.

“Malfoy,” she growled and flicked her wrist and he gasped, turning his head to the side before laughing.

“Did you just make the air slap me?”

She dug her nails in his forearms. “Faster.”

“You could have asked nice— _Ouch_! Fine!”

He sped up and she fell apart within minutes in hot, throaty gasps.

Every single muscle in her was as soft as a feather, ecstasy running through her veins. She glanced out of the window, watching the tufts of clouds and the snowy cap mountains, her mind, for the first time in weeks, feeling peaceful.

But still, she didn’t have him yet. Her body wasn’t satisfied with just his fingers. Not to mention her soul.

She turned towards him where he was propped on one hand while the other was drawing circles on her stomach to catch him staring at her, but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

“Weasely ever do this to you?” he asked, and Hermione groaned.

“Jealous?”

Malfoy snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m very jealous of him, his stupidity and poverty. Honest, Granger, you couldn’t think of a smarter comeback?”

“I meant jealous that I would have done things with him.”

His sneer slipped.

 _Bingo_ , she thought.

Malfoy looked beside them on the cover, his palm heavy on her stomach.

“Did you?” he asked, his voice low, refusing to look up.

“That’s my business.”

He bit his lip and then nodded. “That was out of line.”

“And still you’re talking and not”—she mimicked a rude gesture— “me.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I’m beginning to feel you’re all talk and no action,” she said, goading him. “What are you hiding in your trousers, Malfoy? A twig?”

His face crinkled with annoyance. “It is not a twig.”

“Well, I don’t know that, do I?”

His palm splayed on her stomach slipped down to her waist and he tightened his hold.

“Oh, we’re fucking,” he said in a low voice. “I’m going to have you begging me for mercy. Yes, that’s something I’d like to hear from your lips. Hermione Granger asking Draco Malfoy to fuck her harder.”

Before she could protest, he kissed her and her body immediately began to respond. Her nerve cells awakened, each one on edge, waiting, waiting, waiting.

He kissed his way down to her throat and up to her ear where he lightly bit at the soft part of it.

“Have you?” she gasped when his teeth left a bruise on the side of her neck and she knew she’d have to wear a turtleneck tomorrow.

“Have I what?” he hummed along her collarbones, swinging his body over, and he was straddling her.

“Stuff. T-things,” she managed to say when his mouth found her breasts again. “With Pansy.”

He pressed a kiss in between her breasts and kneeled back up with a knowing smirk. His hair was a chaos of white-blonde waves sticking from all sides and her eyes trailed over down his chest to his Adonis belt that disappeared inside his trousers. He followed her gaze, and without skipping a beat, pulled them down, throwing them to the other side.

Her eyes widened and her mouth went dry.

 _Not a twig_ , she thought to herself. _Not a twig at all_.

“Shut up,” she said before he could gloat at the look on her face.

He only smiled and leaned over her, his body covering hers and Hermione hummed with content. She kissed him, her tongue swiping over his, and felt his response against her thigh. Her hands, now free to touch every part, were brushing all over him. Over the strong muscles on his back and down to his Adonis belt.

The more she touched him all over, the more labored his breaths became, especially when her chest rubbed against his. He slipped his hand between them, making sure she was just as out of breath as he was.

Hermione gasped, her teeth sinking into the spot that joined his neck and shoulder.

“So you did,” she managed to say and he looked down at her.

“Does it bother you?” he whispered.

She chewed the inside of her cheek. “No.”

He grinned, curling one finger in her and she almost cried out. “You’re a liar,” he murmured.

Kneeling between her, Malfoy grabbed each side of her legs, and pulled her closer, teasing her, and she groaned.

“Tell me the truth, Granger,” he said softly. “Does it bother you what I did before with other girls? Have you dreamt about this moment? Me fucking you? Have you dreamt it on this bed?”

She gritted her teeth and tried to push into him, but he held her steady.

“If I’ve dreamt about it,” she whispered, “then so have you.”

He gripped her thighs tighter. “Then we both admit to this.”

She held his gaze for a few seconds. His eyes spoke multitudes of words, his tongue would never say.

“Yes,” she whispered, and a pin dropping would be deafening.

He nodded slowly before pushing into her and Hermione cried out. Pain, she had expected but it didn’t stop her from wincing, fisting the blankets. It was raw, almost blinding.

Malfoy shuddered, his eyes screwed shut with concentration, and his breaths were so throaty and deep that she thought he was about to collapse.

“That is,” she gasped, “if you don’t mind that I’ve never done this before.”

Malfoy froze, his grasp almost slipping. “ _What_?”

“I’ve never had sex,” she repeated, staring at the ceiling before glancing at him.

He looked speechless, completely forgetting he was halfway inside her. “What—what about—”

She shook her head. “It never escalated beyond second base. It didn’t feel right. None of it felt right.”

She wrapped her legs around him and he slid in an inch. “Do it.”

“Merlin’s beard, Granger!” he finally exclaimed. “You could have warned me, and here I thought—”

She pressed her mouth into a thin line. The pain was there, and if he didn’t move, she was going to kill him.

“Do it,” she repeated, almost growled. “ _Move_.”

“I’m hurting you,” he said, and when she didn’t say anything he repeated, “I am, aren’t I?”

“Because you’re not fucking moving!”

Still he didn’t. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why do you think, you dolt?”

He considered her for a second. “You thought I wouldn’t sleep with you… no… that’s not it… that I’d tease you about it.”

She closed her eyes.

“Then why tell me now?”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

But he still didn’t ask the question she didn’t want him to. Her chin trembled and she shook her head slightly.

_Why me?_

He caught on, shuddering out a breath and, _finally_ , moved. She gasped with each stroke he took, pushing deeper and nearly bolted up when his fingers came between them.

“You need to be more turned on,” he murmured. “Wetter.”

Whatever he was doing, it was working, and the pain was receding, merging into something more intense. A buildup of a pleasure she had long wanted— _craved_ —from him.

When her moans rang loud, he stretched over her to kiss her, and he pushed even deeper until Hermione didn’t know if such a feeling of completeness existed or she was hallucinating it.

Their kisses turned sloppy, teeth scraping over lips.

“Am I hurting you?” he managed to say.

Hermione looked up at him, at the way his hair was plastered to his forehead, a sheen of sweat gleaming. His eyes had taken a dark grey colour, and when she squinted, she could see the blue in them. He was breathtaking in the way his cheeks were flushed with the exertion of fucking her.

She brushed his hair back, sliding her hands to clasp at his cheek.

“No,” she murmured.

“Can you take it?” he whispered.

She looked at him, confused.

“Me fucking you,” he said with a glint in his eyes.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

He grinned. “Are you begging me?”

She raised her eyebrows. “No?”

“Then we’re not fucking yet.”

_Oh, if it’s a challenge he wanted, then it’s a challenge he’ll get._

“Go for it, ferret boy.”

He snorted.

“Just because I’m new to this,” she whispered, “doesn’t mean I’m not a fast learner. Or that I won’t turn the tables on you.”

He looked at her with wonderment before kissing her deeply. “This… _this_.”

“What?”

“Your brilliance.”

Before she could splutter out in surprise, he pulled back, nearly all the way out, and her body instantly began to protest. But it didn’t have to for long, because he thrust against her again, and Hermione gasped.

He grabbed both of her hands in one grasp and pressed them over her head while supporting himself on the other. His lips kissed hers, tugged at her lower lip teasingly. His every thrust was slow, dragging the life out of her before injecting it back in.

He kept at this agonizing pace until there was nothing but a fire in her belly that only grew stronger and wilder. She was soon crying out and his grip tightened around her wrists in a way that Hermione knew they’d leave burn marks, but she didn’t care.

“How are you not—” she said before the last word died in her throat when he thrust deep in her.

“Spite,” he murmured but Hermione could read something entirely else on his face. He was minutes, if not seconds, from losing control. The sweat trickling down his cheeks were a dead giveaway for one. Not to mention how throaty his own breaths were.

And that gave her an idea.

She wiggled her wrists of his grasp and he let go before she slipped one hand between them, touching him and he tensed.

“Granger,” he growled.

“I thought spite was helping you?” she said sweetly, feigning innocence.

“You can be truly insufferable at times,” he said but there was no malice in his tone.

He took her hands again, pinned them on either side of her head and kissed her nose.

“I’m doing this for you, Granger,” he said. “I can easily fuck you and come within seconds, leaving you high and dry. But I want you to know that pleasure. Know it by _me_.”

Hermione’s heart nearly leaped out of her chest and jumped from the window beside them.

His gaze was easy, the smile on his lips lazy and arrogant but she knew now it was a façade. She could read the worry underlying that smile of his. If he didn’t fuck her to completion, he would have lost. If he didn’t have her screaming his name, then what was the point of all of this? If he didn’t make her first time one that would have her sated for weeks to come, then he had no right to want her.

“Well, then,” she said.

“Good,” he murmured, satisfied. 

He began slow again. So slow, she thought he wasn’t moving. But soon the fire was rekindled in her stomach and his kisses stoked it even more. He left his kisses along her neck, collarbones before taking her breast in his mouth again.

She cried out then, and he let go of her hands so she could wrap them around his neck, in his hair, pulling him closer. All the while, his thrusts didn’t stop. Building up and up until she was stretching her neck, blindly staring at the ceiling.

“ _Fuck_!” she gasped when the fire began to coil in her stomach.

Suddenly, she heard voices that weren’t hers and Malfoy’s gasps and heavy breaths. Malfoy stopped, his eyes growing as wide as she knew hers were.

“ _Shit_ ,” she exclaimed.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I used _Muffliatio_.”

“They’ll still know there’s someone here,” she hissed. “They’re not dumb.”

His nervousness dissolved to a wicked smile and he rocked against her, spiking a pleasure in her blood. She clamped her mouth shut but the moan still slipped out.

“Don’t—”

The voices came closer, and Malfoy only pushed in deeper. She shuddered when another wave of pleasure rippled against her

She couldn’t help it, she moaned louder and Malfoy immediately pressed his palm on her mouth. Her fingers scraped on his chest, toes curling.

“Is someone here?” someone asked, and Hermione couldn’t for the life of her put a name to a face or anything.

Malfoy flicked his wrist and called out, “It’s me. Taking a nap.”

Another thrust, and Hermione bit down on his fingers, but he didn’t wince. There was nothing but the thrill of having Hermione Granger under his mercy. How he was able to keep calm and cool with no strain in his voice as if he were just writing down an essay instead of being inside her, she didn’t know.

“Oh,” the voice said. The person, whoever they were, were just a few feet from behind the curtain. “All ri—wait, are you sleeping _naked_?”

Malfoy gave Hermione a wink. “I didn’t say I was napping alone.”

Her expression turned murderous, but she couldn’t say anything with his hand on her mouth and him meticulously grinding against her.

“Ew, gross.”

The voice faded away, and he finally removed his hand.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” she spat.

“You already are.” He smirked.

She banged her fist against his broad chest. “I _hate_ you.”

“ _Aw_ , I hate you too.”

She was still furious. If anyone were to catch them, catastrophe would befall. She wouldn’t hear the end of it, especially from the Gryffindors. They’d brand her a traitor, whereas Malfoy would be a hero by his peers. That he was able to take _the_ Hermione Granger to bed and make her scream his name. They’d make jokes and songs and torment her until she landed herself in detention by doing something reckless, like cursing them. Hermione didn’t know if she’d find support from her friends. Maybe, Luna, but then again, Luna was a sweetheart to everyone.

This was a bad idea. What was she _thinking_? What proof did she have that he wouldn’t run out of here as soon as they were done and broadcast it to the entire school? That he’d send a Howler to Harry and Ron, detailing each freckle on her body and how she looked when he was inside her. What if all those times she thought he was becoming better were nothing more than her seeing what she wanted to see?

This was a _very_ bad idea.

The thoughts turned even more vicious and her eyes pricked with tears, the hollow feeling in her stomach now feeling like a void, and her hands began to tremble against his chest.

He noticed the change in her, his eyes going wide with shock. “Granger, are you _crying_?”

She pressed a hand against her mouth because she knew if she tried to talk, she’d immediately cry. A hiccup escaped.

He stopped, and the next second, he slipped out of her. She winced despite herself, the nerves in her stomach tightening with a newfound fear.

She was stupid. _So_ stupid. Guided only by what her lust-filled brain wanted. And now she went and gave her first time to someone who was her enemy.

Hermione was about to twist away, take her clothes and run to another bed to hide forever when he gathered her in his arms, holding her close to him.

That alone stopped the tears.

He tucked his face in the crook of her neck, his arms around her waist. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice muffled. “I shouldn’t have done that. I just thought the thrill would be a turn on to you.”

Her arms were weak, and she was unable to wrap them around him.

“What happens here, stays here,” he continued, and she didn’t even have to act surprised that he knew exactly what was in her mind. His eyes caught more than he let on. “If you want to stop, we’re stopping right now. But if we continue, I swear to you, it dies with me. I’m not going to be standing on top of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall dancing a jig to it for the world to see.”

The image conjured in her mind of Malfoy performing a jig made her snort, and he leaned back to wipe her tears with his thumbs. He smiled.

“I’ll swear a Blood Oath,” he said. “I’ll tell you an embarrassing secret of mine as leverage.”

Her heart was getting lighter, and she blubbered out a laugh.

“It’s fine,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I could always turn it around and say how you bleated like a sheep when you came and that you loved to be called tulip to stay hard. I’m a _very_ convincing storyteller.”

He bit his lower lip and then burst out laughing, the sound of it echoing over the ceiling, and his whole body shook. Hermione couldn’t help grinning. He looked so carefree. More than she had ever seen him in her life.

“All right,” he said after a while, wiping a tear from his eye.

He moved to get off the bed and she frowned, catching his arm. “Where are you going?”

He looked back at her. “I thought you wanted to stop.”

“Did I say that?”

He looked bewildered. “You were crying?”

“A very rational freak-out! Freak-out averted. Now, come back here and fuck me.”

She laid back on the bed, extending her arms over her head, and his gaze followed the way her chest moved.

“Hermione, we—” he stopped, and the breath was knocked out of her.

“Granger,” he corrected, hastily. “Trust me, no one wants this more than I do. God, I want it so bad. Do you know how long I have been dreaming about you? Years. Literal, years. This”—he gestured at her—“is _everything_ I ever wanted.”

She turned to her side, moving closer to him and her hair fell over one shoulder. How did he know how to say these words? The raw emotion on his expression was too truthful for them to be lies.

“It’s what I want as well,” she whispered. “Truly.”

He swallowed hard, and Hermione slowly laced her fingers through his, admiring the difference in their skin. His deathly-pale white against her warm tanned one. She wondered if he burned in the sun. Like a vampire.

“If I want it, it doesn’t mean I’m soft for you now,” he said and looked up at her. Something flickered behind his stormy eyes. “I’m not in love with you. I just need to—”

“Get this out of your system, I know,” she finished the sentence for him. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

He regarded her silently, assessing the way her eyebrows were raised in defiance, daring him to contradict her.

“All right then,” he said and climbed back on top of her slowly. Every part of her screamed with elation and anticipation.

“ _Muffliato_ ,” she murmured as he skimmed his nose along her cheekbones softly, one hand inching up her thigh until he reached his goal and dove two fingers in.

She gasped, closing her thighs on instinct but he parted them open again.

“You’re still wet,” he noticed, pleased. “Tell me, Granger, deep down, you enjoyed the thrill of being discovered, didn’t you?”

Thoughts… what were thoughts when he was touching her like that. How could she even move her mouth?

He flicked one finger and she moaned. “Tell me.”

She nodded. Knowing now he’d keep his mouth shut once they were done, she did like the thrill of it.

He grinned.

His fingers sped up until every part of her was constricting before he stopped just as suddenly.

“ _Hey_!” she protested but he was already between her legs, grabbing hold of each one and wrapping them around his waist. “Oh, okay.”

“Is this what I have to do from now on to get you to spill your truths to me?” he asked teasingly and pushed inside.

Hermione’s hands dragged on the sheets, groaning. There it was again. That delicious ache in every cell in her. But still, he wasn’t all the way in, and she growled. He was taking his sweet time, savoring every moan and reaction from her.

“If you act like this, then I’ll spill your guts instead,” she answered.

He chuckled. “Bossiness looks good on you, Granger. It’s a very sexy vibe.”

How many times have people, even her friends, called her that? Thrown it at her like an insult. With time, she had learned not to listen to them.

But she was listening now.

He leaned over her, ever so slowly, until they were skin on skin, lips breaths away from one another. And he was finally deep in her.

“I’m very thorough,” he whispered, brushing away a few stray hairs from her forehead.

He moved slowly like each one was studied intensely beforehand. Like he knew that each specific stroke would have a certain effect on her.

The fire grew, and soon enough, she was covered in sweat with Malfoy kissing the life into her. She memorized his thrusts before she raised her hips to meet his, and he smiled against her lips.

“O for Outstanding,” he murmured and she laughed.

But the laughter disappeared when he alternated between slow and fast. Bringing her just to the edge and back. He knew what to do and he knew how to do it well, and Hermione wouldn’t have been surprised if they stayed hours here with him teasing her like this.

She clutched on to his shoulders, nails going through the same scratches she made earlier and he buried his head in the crook of her neck, kissing her. Her breaths were shallow and hot and uneven, and she had never felt more undone in her life.

“Malfoy,” she moaned against his ear and he stiffened, shudders running through him and her.

Suddenly, he sat back up, his face blushing a furious red, and Hermione felt confused. All of this. Fingering her. Being inside her. Fucking her. Those were all normal to him but her moaning his name had him looking like a virgin boy.

“Well, well, _well_ ,” she said. “Is this what _I_ have to do next time to get you to stop acting like a jackass?”

He covered his face with one hand, trying to regulate his breaths. The scars on his skin stretched with each flex of his muscles.

And Hermione knew exactly how she’d make him lose control.

Though it was time sensitive.

She squirmed under him, sighing. “I’m feeling neglected.”

He shook his head, his ears still a scarlet red. It was such a contrast beside his white blonde hair.

He smiled and took each one of her legs to support them over his shoulders and she slid down, her heart galloping.

“I promised you we’ll fuck, Granger,” he said, his voice low and throaty.

And he did.

Her gasps spilled out of her lips before she could stop them, the angle of the way he was pushing into her creating a different, deeper sensation. His fingers were digging into her thighs, holding her into place, making him and only him control the depth and speed of his movements.

He teased her long and hard until she was sure her soul was about to leave her body. Until she knew she was going to die from the frustration of it all. It wasn’t Voldemort or a Death Eater who would kill her in the upcoming war, it was Draco Malfoy and the way he made her feel sensations she didn’t were humanely possible.

“ _What are you doing_?” she eventually screamed.

“Beg,” he whispered between thrusts.

She tried reaching for him, but she couldn’t move with the way he was holding her. Frustrated, she snarled and banged her fist on the mattress.

“Beg me to fuck you harder,” he said, his eyes shining like a madman and his tongue darted out licking his lips. “ _Beg_ me.”

God, she was going to rip that smirk off his face as soon as she could move.

“ _No_ ,” she said and then gasped when he thrust again.

“We can do this all day, Granger,” he said like a teacher lecturing their student.

 _Beg_ , her body screamed at her, _just beg and let us fall_.

 _So I can see the smugness in his eyes every time I look at him? Knowing what we’re both thinking about? I’d rather die,_ her mind screamed back.

He pulled all the way out and slowly pushed in and she fisted the sheets, her eyes blind now. Every part of her was as tight as an arrow, every part waiting for that release that he so selfishly was keeping away.

But two could play at that game.

She sighed, stretching her neck over the sweat-drenched pillow and she knew his stare was caught on the shape of her breasts. She took every flame burning through her and reveled in them before half-opening her eyes to gaze at him through hooded lids.

“I want you,” she purred, “to _fuck_ me harder.”

His mouth dropped open before a victorious grin decorated his face. But she wasn’t done.

She moaned louder, raising her arms over her head, and she felt him strain inside her. No matter his experiences, he was still a boy. He was still turned on and deep inside a girl.

Still, he was true to his word and picked up his speed. When she felt the fire nearly burn her out completely, when she knew she was breaths away from falling over, she moaned, “ _Draco_.”

His reaction was instant. A gasp ripped from his throat, his grip on her thighs wavering and his thrusts became erratic, and with a smug grin, Hermione knew it was a tie.

He growled, letting go of her legs and crashed his lips on hers. Her laugh vanished when he slid his fingers between them, and Hermione began to feel her legs stiffen.

The kisses were careless as he pushed in deeper and harder until her toes curled. His breaths were hot against her ear, his hands laced between hers and pressing them to the sheets.

It didn’t take long after that for her to fall apart and she did so with his name on her lips.

“ _Draco_.”

He moaned, kissing away her soft cries and his pleasure washed over him in heavy waves. His arms trembled, no longer able to hold him up and he collapsed on top of her.

His breaths were harsh, his heartbeat thundering over her chest, and his skin was slick with sweat but Hermione didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around him, her legs intertwined with his and took a few moments to gather herself. She wouldn’t have minded it in the least if they stayed here, unmoving, rumpled in each other for the rest of the day. The rest of the week, even.

 _No_ , she thought dreamily. _Month_.

He still hadn’t moved and so she gently stroked back his hair, admiring how silky it felt between her fingers. The shampoos and hair conditioners he used must be outrageously expensive. While her hair had a life of its own, and she’d grown to love how unpredictable it was, his was the embodiment of the word perfect. Even now with it flying everywhere from how much she rummaged through it during their sex.

Sex.

Hermione could have laughed to herself.

This was not how she thought her day would go when she woke up this morning. She didn’t expect to have a warm glow in her chest.

Eventually, he detached himself from her, laying down on his side, facing her and his eyes were half-closed. The grey in them now a frosty blue. He reached up to trail his fingers down her cheek.

“How was it?” he murmured. 

She sighed under his touch. “Horrible.”

His eyes shot open. “ _What_?”

He looked so alarmed, Hermione couldn’t help not laughing.

“You didn’t let me finish.” Her fingers danced on his chest. “At first, it was horrible with the pain but then it got good.”

He raised his eyebrows. “ _Good_? That’s _it_?”

A mischievous smile played on her lips. “Do you want me to praise your fucking skills?”

He frowned. “Would it kill you to do so?”

She shrugged, not wanting to let go of the fuzzy, warm feeling. Not wanting to open that curtain and walk out of the common room. Not yet.

“I mean,” she drawled, glancing back at the window. The sun was reaching the mountains, meaning it was afternoon.

What did she have on her agenda today? Nothing, really. Just reading up on the History of Demonology.

She turned back to him and he was still looking at her questioningly. She tried to pinpoint the moment he had changed from an annoying, little twerp to annoyingly, handsome, tall boy with a body she wanted to spend hours tracing her lips with.

“Spit it out, Granger!” he said when she’d be silent for too long.

“I don’t think I’m ready to leave,” she whispered, the truth falling from her lips before she could stop it.

He looked taken aback.

She shook her head, trying to rectify herself. “This… between us, I’m not crazy, right? This doesn’t happen. Because I’ve never—”

“Felt anything like this with anyone,” he finished for her.

She swallowed hard. “Yes,” she whispered.

His hands reached up to cup her cheeks, and she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes briefly.

“But I hate you,” he said, the words sounding unconvincing and meaningless.

“And I hate you,” she replied, matching his tone.

They blinked at each other, coming to the same conclusion. 

“Does that mean we’re going to—” he said.

Her breath caught on its way out. “I guess it does.”

“No one can ever know,” they said in unison, and stared at each other in amazement.

He chuckled and she smiled.

Closing the distance between them, he kissed her softly. It was sweet, full of promise to what their future private moments would entail.

“Does that mean I’ll get to hear you call me Draco from now on?” he murmured, and she wiggled close to him.

“You really like that?” she asked, surprised. “Of all things? I thought daddy would be the one to make you weak in the knees. Or Lord Malfoy, Ruler of All.”

He looked amused and tilted her chin up. “We’ll circle back to that in a bit, but I like you calling me Draco because you’ve spent the last six years or so saying Malfoy with contempt. Draco is a fresh start.”

 _Oh_.

She took in a deep breath. “Then it’s only fair you call me Hermione. But _not_ in front of the others!”

“I’m not stupid, Hermione,” he said, rolling his eyes. Her name rolled off his tongue like it always belonged there. “If anyone’s going to blow our cover, it’s going to be you.”

She looked highly affronted.

“But let’s not think of that,” he said, grabbing her waist and dragged her on top of him. She let out a squeal. “There’s so much I want to do with you.”

Her heart thudded louder. “So much?”

His pomposity was returning in the tilt of his lips and the jutting of his chin. He ran one long finger along her lips and down her throat, tracing the veins. “Oh yes. I still didn’t taste you. Still didn’t take you from every possible position. Fuck you against the wall. Fuck you in all the hidden places in Hogwarts. We’re going to keep a tally. Also you didn’t scream my name loud enough.”

She shuddered at the icy fire burning in his eyes, and just as suddenly, he flipped them over, so she was under him.

“And, yes,” he murmured, his breath hot on her neck. “I’d like you to call me daddy.”

She snorted and felt his laugh vibrating over skin.

 _This may be a very bad idea_ , Hermione thought when his lips found hers again, but at this moment, she couldn’t possibly know why.

 _No_ , she thought when he glanced down at her and she could see him. The real him without any masks or sneers. He was so beautiful that her heart hurt. Beautiful in the way he held her in his eyes. _It’s not a bad idea._

_It’s a terrible fucking idea._


	2. Two Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been two days since Hermione and Draco's tension ended with them in bed together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gush of love I got for the first chapter really inspired me to write more scenes for these two faves of ours!  
> The theme is still mature! As till now, I'm planning that each chapter is going to have a little ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) and by little I mean a lot!  
> I was a bit nervous about capturing their personalities and characteristics and so I hope I continue to do them justice!  
> I hope you enjoy reading and, as always, comments are VERY appreciated! Without the comments, I honestly would not have had the inspiration for more scenes. So thank you! Thank you so much!
> 
> Also the ending of this chapter will give a hint to what chapter 3 will be about ;)

* * *

It had been two days since Hermione Granger found herself in the Prefect’s Common Room with Draco Malfoy tangled together on the bed.

Ever since then, there was a certain buzzing feeling travelling all over her body, humming a certain electric tune. She could have sworn that when she looked at her hands, sparks were coming out.

They hadn’t been alone, let alone talked to each other, since it happened. And Hermione had no idea how she was able to sleep at night nor how she ate and went on about her day with this huge secret stuck to her like a second skin. 

Not to mention that they had classes together. Charms. Transfiguration. Defence Against the Dark Arts. And Potions.

And in each one of those classes, they pretended they didn’t know each other.

Which was a bit of a stretch, Hermione thought. As before, if she had answered a question when the professor was finishing up the last word of the question, he would have snorted or made a snide remark. Now, he was silent, eyes glued to his open textbook.

The paranoia in Hermione was eating at her when he did that on the second day during Transfiguration class, and she was half convinced they all immediately knew that not two days ago, his mouth was covering hers, his body pressed so close to hers, nothing could pass between them.

 _Stop being silly_ , she scolded herself and picked up her quill to write down the spells Professor McGonagall wrote on the blackboard.

Draco was sitting a few seats to her right in front of her, only his side visible to her, and Hermione kept glancing at him, masking it as being intrigued by the whole classroom. Just some random interest. To his credit, Draco didn’t look at her, and if he were suffering from the same whirl of flustered emotions and anxiety, his face didn’t show it. In fact, he looked sort of bored.

And that, more than anything, made Hermione upset.

Not at him. But at herself.

She couldn’t afford to be distracted during her seventh and _final_ year at Hogwarts. With each passing day, the N.E.W.T.S were looming closer and if she didn’t achieve Outstanding in all of her subjects, then what was the point of living?

“Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall’s stern voice rang her out her thoughts and Hermione startled. “Did you hear what I just asked?”

Hermione was mortified, her face and ears going hot.

“No,” she squeaked, and a few people sniggered while others were shocked. Among them Harry and Ron who turned towards her with blinking eyes and gaping mouths.

Hermione Granger had never in her life in Transfiguration class ever not hung on to each and every word Professor McGonagall had said.

Professor McGonagall’s lips drew into a thin line but she wasn’t upset. “Please focus, Miss Granger. These spells will be asked in the N.E.W.T.S.”

She nodded, her hands shaking, and she pressed them to her thighs, gripping them tightly.

When her gaze moved to the right, she saw that Draco was looking at her, but there was nothing written on his face. And then he turned back towards the front of the class.

“What was that?” Ron asked when class ended, and it was time for lunch.

Hermione swallowed hard, shoveling her books in her bag with unnecessary force. “What was what?”

“You weren’t listening to McGonagall,” Harry said, his eyes creased with worry. “Is there something going on?”

She straightened up, smiling automatically and, from the corner of her eyes, saw Draco walk out with his group of friends, heading towards the Great Hall.

“I was thinking about Binn’s paper on the history of demon occurrences during the ages,” she said, the lie slipping out of her tongue like a professional. A skill acquired from all the shenanigans she found herself with Harry and Ron. “I think I forgot to add the date of the first sighting of the hellhound, and now it’s eating me up.”

Harry and Ron exchanged glances and they grinned.

“Of course,” Ron laughed. “We should have realised. Let’s get lunch. I’m starving.”

The Great Hall was packed with hungry students, each scooping massive amounts of food into their plates. Shepherd’s pie. Hot, steamy buns. Onion soup. Pumpkin juice. And from where Hermione was sitting by the Gryffindor Table, Draco was in her line of sight. His food was untouched and he was in a deep conversation with Blaise Zabini. Zabini said something and the corners of Draco’s lips lifted into his signature sly smile.

 _He isn’t at his usual seat_ , Hermione thought, using the coverup of the loud conversations beside her and her “distress” about the History of Magic paper as an excuse to divulge deep into her thoughts. _He usually sits at the beginning of the table but now he’s between the middle and the end. Is it because he can see me from there? And he couldn’t before? But if it is, then why isn’t he looking at me?_

She felt even sillier at that thought. She was acting clingy and strange which was the last thing she wanted to be. And Hermione knew she was playing with fire the longer she stared at him. This was a recipe for anyone with a sharp eye to immediately put two and two together. And Merlin knew what would happen then.

Draco laughed and Hermione’s cheeks went warm, the buzzing feeling in her stomach flaring. The last time she heard that laugh was when he held her in his arms. And after that when his fingers traced her edges, his breaths hot against her ear. When he moved above her, _inside her._ He had looked at her like his eyes were going to ravish her whole.

 _Beg. Beg me to fu_ —

“Hermione? Earth to Hermione?” a voice said beside her and Hermione jumped, coming face to face with Ginny Weasley who was standing with one foot on the bench, bending down to look at her.

Ginny’s fiery red hair was gathered to a knot on the top of her head, and a couple of stray strands escaped, curling around her ears. Her freckles were even more luminescent under the Great Hall’s lights. Her school robes were open, revealing her chaser outfit.

“Are you all right?” Ginny frowned.

“She forgot to add a date on her history paper,” Ron yelled from two seats down.

“Merlin’s Shoes,” Ginny groaned. “I asked _Hermione_ , not Ron!”

Ron scowled and turned back to his shepherd’s pie.

Ginny took a seat beside her, her face breaking into a smile. “Is it really the history paper?”

Hermione returned the smile. “Yes.”

Ginny nodded. “I was on my way out to practice for the next game, but the look on your face. I had to stop and ask.”

 _Shit_.

“How did I look?” Hermione asked, trying to keep calm.

Ginny shrugged. “Forlorn. You looked like someone kicked you out of a very a titillating meeting where all the most prestigious wizards and witches were discussing something boring like…” She paused, racking her brains. “I don’t know. Something boring to normal people but not to you.”

Hermione laughed despite herself and Ginny grinned. Then her expression changed back to worry, and she looked a bit nervous.

“What?” Hermione asked.

Ginny let out a breath and leaned forward so only Hermione can hear her. “I don’t want to seem forward, and I know he’s my brother but you’re one of my best friends. This… this isn’t about Ron, right?”

Hermione shook her head so quickly her neck almost snapped. “No, no! Not anything like that. And don’t worry, it’s not awkward between us either.” She looked up at Ron who was banging his chest after drinking his pumpkin juice a bit too fast. “We thought there was something, but there wasn’t. It was a road we needed to visit to know it isn’t for us.”

Ginny nodded and then solemnly said, “If he hurts you, I’ll kick his fucking ass. You know that, right?”

Hermione laughed again and reached forward to hug her. “I have no doubt that you absolutely would.”

“All right.” Ginny stood up before grabbing two cheese-coated buns. “Now that’s settled, I’m off. Do you need anything?”

“No, thank you.”

Ginny walked away, raising one hand in goodbye and Hermione smiled.

When she turned around in front of her, her gaze landed on Draco was looking back at her and her heart shot up to her throat.

He was a bit further away from her but she could see his expression clearly. There was a faint smile on his lips and, in that one moment, Hermione couldn’t hear or see anyone or anything beside her. The voices went silent, everyone vanishing. There was no one except her and Draco and the way their eyes were creating magic, and she knew what he was thinking about. She knew in that moment from the way he was staring at her that he had been replaying that afternoon in his mind for the last forty-eight hours, and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to leap across the Great Hall and kiss her.

But the moment ended as quickly as it began when Pansy’s arm went through his and the daydream shattered.

Hermione blinked as Pansy pressed herself against Draco’s side, her lips near his ear. She was whispering something to him, her short dark hair covering her face but Hermione could see the smirk on her lips and a foreign feeling originated in her stomach. She gripped the edge of the table tightly, watching Draco lean closer to Pansy, his brows furrowed. He replied with something and Pansy laughed.

 _Fucking bitch_ , Hermione thought viciously.

The goblets and dishes at her table began shaking without her noticing until she upset a jug of pumpkin juice on a second-year student.

“Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, tearing her eyes away and took out her wand to siphon it away. “I’m so sorry!”

Harry was staring at her. “Hermione, blimey, it’s just a paper!”

She shuddered out a breath. “You’re right. It’s just a paper. I… I need to take a walk and clear my head. Maybe I could ask Professor Binns if he’d let me add it.”

She hadn’t the slightest idea how she was able to stack her lies so neatly on her tongue.

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Harry replied and he reached out to squeeze her hand. “I’m here if you still want to be angry about it, though.”

She managed a grimace before picking up her bag and hurrying out of the Great Hall.

The corridors were empty and her hands formed fists then she ran them through her unruly curls, all the while muttering to herself.

Why was she jealous? Why did the paranoia eat away at her heart like that? What if after he woke up from the stupor of ecstasy, he realized he didn’t want anything to do with her? That once was more than enough, and she was too high maintenance for him to waste his time with? There were plenty of willing girls who made eyes at him. She had noticed that a long time ago. Even if the Gryffindors had a problem with the Slytherins--with him—it wasn’t affecting his status. He still came from a powerful, wealthy family. His grades were one of the highest in school and he was the Slytherin’s seeker. Added to all that, that he was handsome with his arrogant smile, sea-grey eyes, and waves of white-blonde hair that made him look more like a work of ethereal art than a mortal human being. Those were all _very_ appealing factors to anyone with eyes and a pulse.

Hermione groaned, banging her fist against her forehead.

 _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid_ —

She gasped as someone yanked her arm and shoved her inside an empty classroom before closing the door.

“ _Colloportus_ ,” Draco muttered, pointing his wand at the door and it made squelching sound as it locked.

He turned towards her with an amused look, his hair falling over his eyes.

“What did I say?” he said, raising his hands in victory. “I told you, you would be the one to blow our cover.”

Hermione’s heart pounded against her chest and she pressed a hand to it. Her school bag was on the floor beside her, the windows of the classroom were closed, but they still let in the muffled sounds of those outside. The rays of the sun mingled with the clouds created dancing shadows on the empty desks and chairs.

“Our cover is blown?” she repeated, fear replacing all other thoughts. If everyone knew, then she was never leaving this classroom.

He shook his head and walked over to her.

“No.” He took her hands in his. “But it will be if you continue acting like this.”

He pressed her hands to his lips, kissing them and Hermione sighed.

“Were you just jealous of Pansy?” he asked, his eyes crinkled with mischief. “Is that why you left?”

She swallowed hard. “No, I—”

“Don’t lie. I was watching you the whole time.”

She blinked. “The whole time?”

“The whole time,” he whispered. “All these two days, I couldn’t stop watching you.”

Air evaporated from her lungs. “But during Transfiguration, you were looking in front of you. And not just today but also yesterday in Charms.”

He laughed. “You know what I think? I think half the reason you’re attracted to me is because of my high grades. Now if those started slipping, it might change the way you feel. I’m not risking that.”

Hermione was dumbfounded. “So you did change where you usually sit in the Great Hall.”

He grinned showing those pearly teeth of his. “Of course, you’d catch on to that.”

He dropped her hands to cup her cheeks, a softness glowing in his eyes and Hermione grasped on to his wrists. He was soft with her, so soft, that her heart ached. He lowered his head.

“What did Pansy want?” she whispered when he was breaths away from her lips and he chuckled.

Resting his forehead against her shoulder, he continued to laugh and Hermione started counting the number of them in her mind. It was a rare thing to catch Draco Malfoy chuckling out of joy and not malice.

“You really _are_ jealous!” he said. “If someone would have told me last week that I would have _the_ Hermione Granger beside herself with jealousy for my attention, I would have called St. Mungo’s for them to get their brains checked!”

He lifted his head, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Are you done?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and irritation prickled at her skin.

He bit his lip to stop from laughing again. “Yes, yes. And I don’t think you’ll like what she wanted.”

Hermione crossed her arms.

He shrugged. “She wanted to meet me in the Room of Requirement.”

Hermione blinked and looked away.

Draco cupped her cheeks once more, forcing her to look at him. “I told her no. And it’s not Pansy’s fault. She doesn’t know I’m involved with someone.”

Hermione snorted. “As if she’d back off if she knew it was me.”

He sighed. “Maybe you’re right. But if it makes you feel any better, I wanted to hex Weasley’s trousers off when you were explaining yesterday’s Charms work to him.”

Her heart lifted. “It does make me feel better.”

He brushed her hair back. “So we’re even?”

She nodded and he lowered his head to kiss her.

 _Finally_ , she thought.

The kisses were soft, sweet as were his hands that took their time studying her curves before he slipped a hand under her shirt and covered one bra cup. Still, she gasped and the kisses turned hard and he backed her until she hit the edge of a desk before he lifted her to sit on it.

Immediately, Hermione wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer and he hummed contently against her mouth. His fingers nimbly started loosening her tie and unbuttoning her shirt. She couldn’t feel any of the cool air on her shoulders and collarbone from the heat overflowing through her.

He broke away for them both to breathe but still, his lips didn’t leave her face. He kissed her cheeks, her nose, and along her jawline. She held on to his shoulders, her fingers dragging through the rich cashmere jumper of his while she concentrated on swallowing breaths of air.

“So,” she gasped when he nipped at her ear, “we’re not stopping?”

He stilled before leaning back, confused. “You mean… _now_ with what we’re doing in this classroom or us in general?”

“Us in general,” she said while her chest heaved and his glance fell to her breasts and back up.

“Do _you_ want to stop?” he asked tentatively.

She shook her head.

He let out a sigh of relief. “Neither do I.”

She smiled, her hands hooking under his jumper before she pulled it off him, and she admired the way his white shirt stuck to his broad chest and pulled on to his tie to draw him closer.

“I know we said we have to be secretive,” she whispered, and his eyes went dark with desire at the throaty tone her voice took. “But you started ignoring me and I thought you regretted telling me you wanted to be… well, whatever this is.”

He raised his eyebrows. “As opposed to…?”

She shrugged, her shirt slipping further. “You used to make fun of me before. Or at the very least, sneer. And several incidents raised their head during our classes, but you didn’t.”

He looked at her, incredulously. “Do you _want_ me to make fun of you?”

“Yes,” she replied, then frowned. “No… I don’t know.”

He drew further back, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Hermione, you’re not making any sense.”

She let out a laugh. “I mean, we have to find some sort of middle ground or else the others will get suspicious if we moved from not being mean to one another to pretending the other doesn’t exist. We need to ease into it.”

He smiled and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “My brilliant nemesis.”

She went pink but felt pleased all the same.

“You’re right,” he said and she liked that even more and tugged at his tie. “We’ll find a middle ground.”

He was breaths away from her and then the distance vanished when they kissed again.

This time there was nothing in her mind but the feel of him against her and she craved it even more. Her shirt was shrugged off, falling with her tie to the floor and his own joined them soon after. She ran her hands over the strong muscles on his stomach and shoulders, feeling her veins flutter with excitement before she reached his trousers and dipped her hand inside.

He moaned against her mouth and inched his own hand up her thigh until he reached between her legs and she gasped, teeth scraping against his lips.

His fingers played across the waistband of her undies before dragging them down and he lowered himself to his knees, not breaking eye contact with her.

“What are you doing?” she asked nervously. There was fire in his eyes.

He grinned wickedly. “Oh, I think you know.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “But we don’t have time for that. There are fifteen minutes left until the next class.”

Class they had together. Defence Against the Dark Arts

He skimmed his nose along her thigh, pressing faint kisses on her skin and goosebumps erupted in their wake. “That’s more than enough time for what I want to do.”

The next second, her blue undies were on the floor and he lifted both her legs to rest them on his shoulders, and Hermione knew she was about to combust any second now.

“I told you I wanted to taste you,” he purred and the tilt of his smug smile promised all sorts of mischief.

At the first contact of his tongue against her, she cried out, throwing her head back and gripped the edges of the desk so tightly, all the blood disappeared from her fingertips.

Her heels dugs into his shoulder and the whole classroom was filled with her gasping breaths, moans, and pleas. She couldn’t reach for him or else she’d fall from the desk and so she held on to it with all her strength.

His grasp on her thighs tightened as he made fireworks explode all over her body and Hermione didn’t know what was happening to her. There was heat, _so_ much heat, and pressure and she felt her tongue paralyzed with ecstasy. The only coherent thought in her mind was his name.

“ _Draco_ ,” she pleaded when she couldn’t take it anymore, and he growled.

She was standing on a very high cliff, every nerve and muscles constricted and all she wanted, all she _craved_ , was a release.

Finally, he flicked his tongue upwards and she shattered into a million pieces, her arms unable to hold her and she fell against the desk, her head dangling from the other end. She didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything at that moment except the bliss flowing through her.

She heard him standing up, felt him gather her in his arms before sitting down on the floor and pressed a kiss to her sweaty forehead.

“All right, love?” he whispered.

She shuddered out a breath too weak to say anything and so she nodded dreamily.

After a while, she was able to gather herself enough to look up at him. His grin was as smug as ever and he winked.

“Watching you come,” he whispered, “will never get old. No, let me rephrase that. Watching you lose control will _never_ get old.”

She pushed his shoulder playfully and he laughed before kissing her.

“We need to go,” he said, nodding towards the grandfather clock beside them. “Or else we’ll both be late for the first time in our lives.”

She cleared her throat. “Yes.”

She stood up on wobbly legs and he helped her before she fell over. This only served to increase the smugness threatening to burst him like a balloon. But Hermione was too concerned with being late to berate him, so they dressed quickly, agreeing that they leave the classroom separately.

And before she headed out first, a thought crossed her mind on how to change the twinkle in his eyes into something else. She turned towards him, grabbed on to the lapels of his shirt and kissed him long and hard. He made a noise of surprise, and she broke away.

“I’m going to return the favour, you know,” she purred, trailing one hand down until she met her goal and he groaned, eyes fluttering. “Was that something you’ve thought about, Draco? Me on my knees in front of you? You holding my hair? My mouth around you?”

He swallowed hard, a moan escaping from his throat and the easy arrogance cracked, his breaths coming out rough.

“I guess I’ll see you soon,” she said brightly, kissing his cheek and walked out of the classroom.

And for Hermione, that Defence Against the Dark Arts class with Draco stuttering the whole while whenever he was asked a question and his face permanently red when she casually— _intentionally_ — licked her lips, was her most enjoyable one to date.


	3. A Favour Returned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Instead of going to Hogsmeade, Hermione and Draco spend the day together. 
> 
> Mostly smut. And fluff. Both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments! They truly bring a smile to my face every single time I read them!
> 
> This chapter has more smut than the last one. And I have no regrets ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

* * *

A whole week had passed since their little rendezvous in the classroom. Something Hermione deliberately planned for as the last time they were alone, she promised him to return the favour.

It was apparent it was all he could think about every time he looked at her during their joined classes. And she wasn’t giving him a peace of mind with the way she’d bite her lower lip as if in deep thought or how her tie was a bit loose that only his eyes would catch on. The clench of his jaw and the way he would lose track of what he was saying was all the confirmation she needed to know how restless he was becoming. But he never sought her out. Leaving it in her hands.

Although it wasn’t entirely Hermione’s fault, they hadn’t had any alone time. Seventh year meant extra homework and papers to write but she had been training her whole life for this. Years of meticulous studying and planning were in her favour and she knew how to organize her time wisely. While others had soaked up their textbooks with their tears and whined about how they still weren’t able to transfigure a teapot into a toad non-verbally without muttering the enchantment, she was miles ahead of her studying plan. As she suspected was Draco.

Still, the only time she was able to see him alone was on Tuesday when they bumped into each other during their Head duties, took one look at the empty corridor and kissed against the wall. Until they heard footsteps approaching and sprang five feet from one another before hurrying away.

So when Saturday arrived, it was a chance for students to relax in Hogsmeade. The weather promised a full day of sun and cotton candy clouds with a dash of cool breeze as an early October usually was. The entire seventh-year and fifth-year students collectively were about to collapse on the floor from happiness. A day with no studying. They would spend it at The Three Broomsticks drinking butterbeer, chattering about anything other than school and strolling around the cozy village, visiting the various shops.

But not Hermione. She had other plans that day.

She had slipped Draco a note the day before, asking him not to go to Hogsmeade but meet her in the Prefect’s Common Room around twelve. Their fingers had touched for a second and electricity zapped through them both.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Ginny asked, wrapping her scarf around her neck and Hermione shook her head, still laying in bed after they came back from breakfast. She had noticed that Draco wasn’t there. “Is it about that awful History paper?”

Hermione snorted. “No. I’m over it.”

“Good.” Ginny sat down at the end of the bed and Hermione raised her eyebrows. “You’ve been acting strange lately.”

“I know,” Hermione replied. She knew it was better not to deny or else the suspicions would never leave. All she had to do was divert their attention somewhere else. “I’m panicking about the N.E.W.T.S. You know how many I’m taking. Plus Head Girl duties. There’s a lot going on.”

Ginny grimaced. “You do take things to the extreme, don’t you?”

Hermione opened her mouth to defend herself but then remembered who was going to be waiting for her in the Prefect’s Common Room and shut up.

Instead, she shrugged and decided to play the Muggle card. “I’m Muggle-born. You know I want to prove to myself that I can know everything about the magic world bla bla bla.”

Ginny snorted. “All right, Miss Know-It-All. I’ll bring you something back from Honeydukes.”

“Thank you.”

Ginny walked out of the dormitory and Hermione gave it twenty minutes before she sprang up, took a shower, and wore her favourite blue dress that zipped from the side which meant it would be easier to unzip. She also made sure to match her bra and undies, took one look at herself in the mirror, then at the clock. 11:45 am. Then she looked back at the mirror. Her hair was wild and, for a second in the shower, she had considered using those magical potions she used at the Yule Ball, but then decided against it. She loved her hair as she knew Draco did too.

“I guess I should leave,” she told her reflection.

With a galloping heart, she headed out and Hermione couldn’t deny the way her heart was yearning to see him, urging her feet to run and not walk. And when she got to the Prefect’s Common Room, she commanded herself to stop smiling so giddily.

“Password?” the Fur Coat Lady asked.

“Pink feathers,” she replied and the door swung open.

To her delight, it was empty save for him, sitting on the coaches in front of the fireplace.

He turned towards her and a grin broke across his face.

She pointed her wand behind her at the door. “ _I_ _dem intrusor revelare_.”

That way if anyone was approaching the Prefect’s Common Room with the intention of going in, the spell would alert them, giving them enough time to gather themselves.

“You’re five minutes late,” he said with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes and he stood up before she launched herself in his arms, kissing the life into him. He let out a noise of surprise she swallowed in her mouth and they fell back against the couch with her straddling him.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured when she attacked his face with kisses.

“Me too,” she murmured back and he sighed. She dropped her lips to the side of his neck, determined to leave a mark.

“Let me look at you,” he whispered after a bit and she stilled, leaning back.

His eyes trailed all over her and his smile deepened, turning arrogant. “Did you pretty yourself up for me?”

She raised her eyebrows, ruffling the lapels of the white shirt on him. He was wearing a black wool jumper over it, the rich fabric of it gliding under her hands like water with matching black trousers. The contrast of white and black made him look painfully beautiful with his hair dangling across his grey eyes. There wasn’t even a blemish on his smooth pale skin.

 _What the fuck?_ Hermione thought begrudgingly.

She shook her head. “Then what do you call what you’re wearing? Didn’t _you_ pretty yourself up for _me_?”

He grinned. “This? These are my casual clothes, Hermione. Have you never seen anything so rich in material before?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, you’re really funny this morning.”

He chuckled. “I’m hilarious.”

“You do realise you’re not gaining any favourable points with me right now?”

He trailed a finger up her throat to her chin, tilting her closer to him and her eyes fluttered.

“How about when I do this?” he whispered before coaxing her lips open with his.

Hermione hummed her approval and his hands pressed against her back while her own found their way from his neck up to his hair, and he sighed when she threaded her fingers through his silky strands.

“How is your hair always so perfect?” she asked against his mouth, and he smirked.

“Apologies. Malfoy family secrets.”

She laughed and he was positively beaming at this point.

“God, I love hearing you laugh,” he murmured, grazing his teeth at the side of her neck over her pulse. “Do it again.”

The absurdity of his request made her laugh again and he looked up at her, eyes crinkling with happiness.

“What were your plans for us today?” he asked.

She smiled a knowing smile and raised her eyebrows. “Can’t you guess?”

He blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. And then he said, “I’m afraid to. In case I’m wrong.”

She laughed lightly, gaining courage bit by bit. It was all about the small steps. She knew how much he craved her, knew the jolt of nerves running through his body when she touched him.

Hermione might not have done this before with anyone, but she wasn’t a slow learner. And here, she learned to let her instincts take control. From their first and only time together, she had memorized exactly what he liked. What made his knees buckle.

So she slowly unzipped her dress from the side and his eyes trailed the movement, breath hitching when her skin came into view. Then she tugged the dress down, letting it pool at her waist, to reveal her burgundy lace bra and Draco swallowed hard.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I did pretty myself up for you.”

His gaze didn’t leave her breasts and the way the bra perfectly held them in place that with every deep breath she took, they bobbed.

She tilted his chin up, smiling when she saw the pink blush on his face.

“It’s good you’re so pale,” she said, trailing her fingers down the sides of his face. “It’s an open book for me. The most enjoyable book I’ve ever read.”

He looked at her with wonderment before she leaned down and kissed him. Long and slow.

“Take off your jumper and shirt,” she murmured and he happily obliged. They were thrown somewhere on the floor.

Hermione had promised herself to take her time. Their last encounters had been a rush of nerves and a clock counting down too fast for her to fully appreciate the beauty of him. Now, she was on his lap, tracing her fingers lightly over the shapes of the scars and he shuddered.

“Do they hurt?” she asked, feeling a stab of guilt.

He shook his head. “Not anymore, but… they’re an ugly reminder.”

That he would admit that much. Hermione smiled sadly. “I love them.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“No, you misunderstand,” she corrected. “I love them because they’re a part of your body.” She kissed him once before dragging her lips over his neck where one of the scars licked around his neck and down to his chest, trailing kisses along them. “Not to mention, incredibly sexy.”

“Maybe I should thank Potter for them,” he said in a cool voice and she froze, leaning back to see his eyes had gone a steely grey.

Hermione took in a deep breath. “What Harry did that day—what he did to you—that was wrong. No, not just wrong. It was traumatizing. You… you nearly died.”

She swallowed hard and realized her hands were shaking so she balled them against her chest. His cold exterior cracked a tiny fraction. But Hermione had more to say.

“You were treated, _still_ treated, as the enemy even though that happened. Harry didn’t apologize to you, did he?”

Draco didn’t say anything, his lips formed into a thin line.

She clasped her hands around his neck. “I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t mean much coming from me. But I am sorry. I am sorry.”

He blinked, the steel in his eyes melting and he tucked a stray stand behind her ear. “I don’t blame you,” he said softly. “I never did. Whatever pain I befall at your hands, I deserve.”

“Draco—” she began but he was kissing her, swallowing the words she wanted to say. He didn’t want to talk about it. This wasn’t a day where he wanted to bare his soul to her. This was a day for them to forget their pasts and exist only in this bubble.

So, Hermione let it go.

For now.

When the kisses turned more desperate, she began to rock against him and he gasped in her mouth. She let her hands wander all over him until she reached his waistband and grinned against his lips. Sliding her hand inside, she trailed her fingers lightly over his length eliciting a moan from him. Hermione stroked him a few times and he bucked against her hand, his breaths coming out harsh.

But she wasn’t done.

She slid off his lap to her knees in front of him and his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

“I told you I’d return the favour,” she whispered, unbuckling his belt and he was immobile with desire and nerves. She pulled his trousers down along with his boxers in one motion, throwing them to the side and he sighed.

“Have—” he tried to say before clearing his throat. “Have you ever done this before?”

She held him in her hand and he shuddered. “No,” she replied. “You’ll be the first.”

Draco groaned, his eyes closing briefly and she took that opportunity to lick him and his eyes shot back open with a sharp gasp.

“Hermione!” he choked out, his fingernails dragging along the couch's leather.

She smiled before lowering her head and taking him whole. His breaths became more and more laboured, and she took what she could while using her hands with the rest. Her hair fell from either side, shielding her from his eyes and she felt his hands brushing it away. She looked up at him and he twitched in her mouth. 

His lips were parted open, his breaths strangled in his throat and he dug his hands in her hair. She swirled her tongue and he moaned. Soon enough, he was raising his hips to feel even more and she knew he was close. The muscles on his stomach were constricting and every part of him was a lick away, a breath away from falling apart.

“Hermione!” he warned but she didn’t stop. He let out a loud moan, fingers digging tightly in her hair and his release washed upon him.

She didn’t stop even after that. Not until he whispered, “Hermione, _stop_.”

She leaned back on her heels, feeling quite proud of herself. His head was resting against the edge of the couch, breaths still ragged and throaty. She watched him try to put the pieces of himself back together, watched the rise and fall of his chest, and the way one arm was draped across his face. And with his head tilted up like that, he looked gorgeous.

Finally, he looked down at her, his face still a magnificent red. His hair was in disarray, some strands matted to his forehead, his eyes, bluish-grey and wide and every breath from him was ragged.

“You’re…” he began in a hoarse voice. “You’re… _wow_.”

She grinned proudly and he quickly tugged her so she was straddling him once more, and her dress fell off completely, leaving her in her bra and undies.

“Your first time? Are you sure?” he asked, grazing his nose against hers.

She laughed lightly. “I have never failed at _anything_ from the first try.”

He kissed her, his fingers dancing at her bra clasp and, the next second, it was gone. He rounded his hands in front, covering them both, teasing her, and she groaned.

They had all the time in the world today and a casted spell to keep them hidden. And so Draco took his time kissing her, memorizing the shape of her lips and what would happen if his fingers alternated from her breasts to between her legs.

She was breathing harshly, accidently biting on his lips when he curled a finger upward.

“Draco,” she moaned, lifting her hips.

He grinned, enjoying the look on her face.

“I want you to fuck me like you promised you would the last time we were here,” she whispered suddenly, and the grin slipped from his face, replaced by shock.

She laughed lightly before grinding against him and he barely stifled his moan. “Looks like you’re ready again.”

He brushed her hair back, watching the way her lips were parted open, red and bruised from his own.

“Get on your knees,” he murmured, breaths away.

Her nerves immediately electrified and she swallowed hard before obeying. His eyes touched her everywhere, resting longer on her breasts and then nodded when she was on the rug.

Draco stood up and Hermione noticed he made no effort to hide himself. Whereas it was still hard for her not to cover herself when he was looking at her, feeling every part his eyes gazed at burn. He strode towards her, bending down to kiss her.

“I’m going to need you to support yourself on your arms for me, love,” he whispered, and her heart beat at a dangerous pace.

She nodded, unable to say anything, and he traced her lips with his fingers before pushing inside and she immediately sucked on them. He smiled slow. A smile that promised all sorts of mischief.

Then he took his fingers out before rounding around and standing behind her. He pushed her back until she was on her arms and she knew why he wanted it to be here and not on one of the beds. In front of her was a grand, mahogany mirror and the sight of her sprawled on her knees, bent down for him while he was kneeling right behind her nearly made her heady with desire.

He trailed one long finger along her spine and she shuddered.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed and she looked up to see his reflection staring into her eyes. “So beautiful and mine.”

He pulled down her undies, tossing them to the side and brought himself close, teasing her now, just about stroking her and Hermione was going to scream.

“ _Draco_ ,” she growled, baring her teeth and he laughed.

“How long will you last this time before you beg me?” he asked playfully, grabbing either side of her hips and slowly pushed in.

She moaned, fingers dragging over the rug. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply and his hold on her tightened, digging into her skin . 

His motion was still painfully unhurried, pushing in bit by bit, making her feel every inch of him and she tried to grind into him but he held her steady. She clawed the rug, every muscle, and nerve in her screaming. That is until he was finally deep in her.

And he began the process all over again.

Slow. So _tantalisingly_ slow that she was beginning to regret letting him have the upper hand in this.

“I’m going to _kill_ you,” she growled, her hair falling across her eyes that burned with an angry fire.

He smirked and, still, his pace didn’t pick up. “You’re utterly helpless right now, Hermione. How are you going to use your magic to threaten me? You can’t.”

He was right. She couldn’t keep a thought in her head, couldn’t even _move_ when the aching, building pleasure was high in her blood, singing and screaming for a release.

He leaned forward, his body pressed against hers and his hand came under to cover her breast. She shuddered, involuntarily grinding into him.

“All you have,” he murmured along her back, teasing her breast, “is me.”

She whimpered when his thrusts became a bit faster, and he gathered her hair to one side to tuck his lips beside her ear.

“ _Beg me_ ,” he whispered, his breaths hot against her ear. “Beg me, love.”

She shook her head. The last time she was able to use his name to make it a tie, but Hermione had a nasty feeling it wasn’t going to work now. Or maybe its power isn’t as strong as it was.

His teeth grazed her ear, his tongue licking her, and she trembled, her moans falling abundantly from her lips. She threw her head back and tried once again to control the speed but he held himself further away.

“ _You fucking asshole_ ,” she finally rasped.

“Oh, I love it when you talk dirty.” He grinned and thrust hard.

She gasped and slid down.

He grinded against her systematically. Whenever she was close to shattering, he withheld. And repeated the cycle until Hermione could feel tears prickling in her eyes. Yet he was as cool as can be. The only indication to what he was doing was the flush on his cheeks and his flyaway hair. If she looked at him any longer, Hermione knew her heart would shatter from his beauty.

“If you hadn’t used that smart, little mouth on me,” he purred, wrapping her hair around his hand and thrusted again. “I wouldn’t have lasted this long now.”

She groaned.

“And I haven’t even touched you yet.”

She froze, dread filling up her stomach. If he were to use his fingers as well, she didn’t stand a chance. Oh why hadn’t she teased him when she was sucking him? Hermione wanted to smack herself. He’d been playing this game longer than she had and she was only just learning the ropes of it.

She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see anything for a minute. There were too many stimulations happening at the same time. She could use her own hand, but that was basically also admitting defeat as begging him would be. But if she would be able to come from what he was doing right now, then she would have won. And so, she tried to focus on reaching that ecstasy without compromising anything.

But he seemed to have caught on because he stopped, stilling inside her.

She let out a frustrated, angry sound.

“Look at me,” he whispered and she shook her head.

“Hermione, look at me,” he repeated.

Stubbornly, she refused.

He laid a hand on her back, caressing her gently. “Please.”

Her heart dipped. She knew the number of times Draco had said please could be counted on one hand, and she understood at that moment that for him, closed eyes meant closed hearts.

She opened her eyes slowly, taking in his worried face. He was biting his lower lip, his eyes wide with anxiety that drained away when she smiled at him.

“Do you hate me?” he whispered.

“Only if you don’t fuck me.”

His mouth tilted into a small smile. “I’m a man of my word. Beg me, and I will.”

She groaned. “Again with this?”

She grinded against him and felt him twitch inside her.

Yet, the smile on his face turned into a smirk. “But I _know_ how much you want to beg me.”

Hermione swallowed hard. She did want to beg him. The only thing stopping her was her pride. But then again, this wasn’t going to be their last time fucking.

And there were many, _many_ ways to get Draco Malfoy on his knees with desire for her.

She’d give him this win as such was their dynamic. She took the highest mark in a Transfiguration quiz and he beat her in the Potions one.

“Draco,” she murmured throatily and licked her lips. The change in his eyes was instant, immediately going dark with need. “Fuck me. _Please_.”

A low moan ripped from his throat, a shudder running through all his body and his thrusts became faster and deeper. She gasped as the sensations rippled through her in waves and her knees began to shake with each thrust. His hands circled her breasts before pulling on her hair lightly and lastly his fingers made their way down to between her legs and Hermione nearly screamed.

She arched her back against him, delirious with the pleasure that about shattered her into a million pieces and when it did, she cried out his name before her muscles all turned into mist and she half-collapsed on the rug, her breaths ragged and harsh.

She didn’t even realise he had met his own release when she felt him slip out before falling beside her on his back. His chest heaved with each breath he took in, drops of sweat trickling down and his eyes were closed, his eyelashes brushing over his flushed cheeks.

Hermione watched him, feeling her heart ache at the sight of him. And she was smart enough to know that this ache was love wrapping its strings around her heart, reigning her in. She had known for the last two years now that if she let herself feel anything other than hatred for him, her fall would be quick and imminent. Maybe if life had been kind to them where their relationship wouldn’t bring disdain and hate from everyone they knew, they’d be in Hogsmeade right now, kissing in a dark corner in The Three Broomsticks or by the Great Lake with his head resting on her lap, laughing at the witty remarks they were throwing at one another.

Still, she knew the decision she made when she went to Madam Pomfrey and asked for the contraceptive potion. She knew if she couldn’t have him in the open, she’ll have him in secret. No matter how long or short this relationship would be. _Anything_ was better than nothing.

Besides, she hadn’t the slightest idea how _he_ felt about her. He had admitted to wanting her for years, but that did not equal love. And Hermione knew if he were in love with her, then she would have the motivation to find a way to make this work. They’d be free from Hogwarts after graduation. But then… then came the issue of his family. Hermione bit her lip and pushed that thought far, far away from her mind. She was getting ahead of herself.

Draco finally opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling before chuckling. “I—I won.”

She rolled her eyes and he turned on his side towards her, a roguish grin decorating his face. “How does it feel to lose?”

She smiled. “I wouldn’t know seeing as I had a really great time.” And before he could say anything, she slipped her hand between them and gripped him. He winced. “Besides, this won’t be the _last_ time we do this. And I’d be nice to me if I were you.”

She stroked him lightly, and his eyes fluttered. After a few seconds, she let go and he groaned.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I’d be _really_ nice to me.”

He smiled, reaching one hand to grasp her neck and pulled her to his lips. The kiss was soft, remnants of the bliss they just felt in it.

“Threat noted,” he said.

He tucked an arm around her and hugged her close to him, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Hermione blinked then relaxed, wrapping him in her own embrace.

“My heart’s about to burst,” he murmured against her skin. “I know it will.”

She swallowed hard, a few tears pricking her eyes one more time. And if there was anything Hermione didn’t like it, it was miscommunication.

So, she detached from him and he looked at her with confusion.

“I like you,” she said stoutly before her nerves failed her. “I like you a lot.”

His mouth dropped open, eyes widening. “What?” he finally asked, shock lacing his words.

“I said I like you.” Now, she was getting irritated. “Do you need me to fix your ears?”

He let out a pained sound before crushing her to his chest. “You like me? _Like_ me?”

His tone was dripping with incredulity.

Hermione was perplexed. “Yes?” she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

He reached back to capture her lips in a kiss. He kissed her long and hard until all the air disappeared from her lungs.

“I like _you_ ,” he said hoarsely, eyes shining with a light she had never seen before. His whole expression was free from malice and his signature bored look. The ache twisted in Hermione’s heart and she suspected “like” wasn’t the word he meant.

He shook his head, a new shade of pink tinged his face. “I apologize. That was… that was probably too enthusiastic than I should have showed.”

“No, no,” Hermione found herself saying and clasped her hands around his neck. “I like this side of you. I like _all_ of your sides.”

He swallowed hard, emotion colouring his eyes blue. “I… I know I haven’t been the… you know…” He was struggling to find the words and the anxiety reared its head in him. “I’m… I don’t deserve…”

“That’s where you and I disagree,” she said, smiling. “You deserve. The end. There’s no continuation to that sentence.”

He leaned into her palm, his bashfulness washing away all the traces of the proud, cockiness he was showing just before. The tension between his eyebrows untangled and Hermione cursed this prejudiced feud between the Gryffindors and Slytherins. Hell, between the _whole_ school and the Slytherins. That hostility was a mark that Voldemort was still winning. They have but one enemy.

“So, do you want to stay here?” she asked, smiling brightly. Every moment they spent together, one more shackle fell away, bringing them closer. “Or do you want to get something to eat?”

He pursed his lips, thinking.

“We have the whole day together,” she said. “We can do both.”

“Oh, I like that,” he said, nodding. “But first I think I want to hear you laugh again.”

She snorted but then his hands tickled her and she doubled up, shrieking with laughter. He grinned wide before hoisting himself up to straddle her.

He ended up making her scream his name two more times before they headed to the Great Hall. Thankfully, whatever students were there didn’t give them a second glance, thinking they were performing their Head duties and he did sit by the Slytherin table.

When they returned back to the Prefect’s Common Room, they barely made it to their bed before falling onto it and, amidst tangled sheets and limbs, they exchanged stories and conversations between kisses.

This time when Draco made love to her, it was sweet and gentle until she was clutching at his shoulders, nails dragging down his back.

They laid beside one another, watching the clouds float by over the mountains, peace claiming both their hearts.

“Did you get any work done?” Ginny asked as soon as she walked inside the dormitory, her cheeks red with the cold. She dunked a bag of Honeydukes sweets in Hermione’s lap where she was sitting on her bed.

 _I had Draco Malfoy moan my name over and over again_ , she thought but she said, “Oh, yes. Loads. I feel so much better. Thank you for the sweets.”

Ginny smiled. “I’m glad. Join us next time, will you? Life isn’t only about studying, you know.”

 _No, it isn’t_ , she thought dreamily, replaying the goodbye kiss he gave her before they went their separate ways. He hadn’t wanted to let her go. The look in his eyes was all the giveaway she needed.

There were strings surrounding his heart as well and they were connected to hers.

It was the beginning of the fall.


	4. "Studying"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A packed library can spur some interesting moments ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments!!! I love each one of them so, so much! They bring such a smile to my face.
> 
> I think this was one of my fave chapters to write so far! Especially with how I ended it xD
> 
> Again this is Mature. There's smut here!
> 
> I hope you like it! And if you do, my greedy soul would love a comment!

* * *

The library was filled to the brim with students strewn all over studying, preparing for next week’s upcoming quizzes. Hermione had been in the library from the crack of dawn, engrossed in her stacked textbooks and scribbled parchments that cluttered all over the table she was using, and so she hadn’t noticed the library slowly filling up.

Harry and Ron had insisted on doing their studies in the Gryffindor’s Common Room before they realized they were absolutely fucked without her help and joined her in the afternoon after messing around a bit.

Right now, they were both sitting beside one another on her opposite side, their faces scrunched up with concentration and annoyance. And no one could blame them. The Charms quiz on Monday was not something to be trifled with.

Hermione herself was mouthing the words of one of the oldest books the library offered. _Charms: History and Relevance to Life_. She had to wipe a thick layer of dust off its cover, sending the particles up her nose and she succumbed to a coughing fit. But despite its boring appearance of an ugly, faded yellow jacket and tiny, near-invisible letters, she was immensely engrossed in it. So much so, she almost didn’t hear the drawled voice beside her.

“Is this seat free?”

It took her a few moments to extract herself from the pages and reconvert her mind into what was happening in the real world.

Draco was standing beside her chair, his schoolbag on his shoulder with a secret twinkle in his eyes and a lazy smirk on his lips. Her heart thudded so dangerously against her ribcage that she was almost certain everyone could hear it.

“No,” Harry and Ron replied in unison, a mountain of dislike embedded in that one word.

Draco raised his eyebrows before nodding towards the packed library. “This is the only empty seat.”

“We don’t care,” Harry snapped.

Draco’s smirk deepened. “As Head boy, I’d watch how you talk to me, Potter.”

“ _As Head Boy_ ,” Ron spat back. “I’m saying it’s _not_ free.”

“I suppose I’ll leave it to Madam Pince, then.” Draco smiled. “I’m sure she’ll find it interesting enough to take it up to McGonagall. Abusing your power like that.”

Ron opened his mouth to snap something back but Hermione raised her hand.

“There’s no need for that,” she said. “Sit down, Malfoy.”

“ _Hermione_ —” Harry began, shocked.

She turned towards them with a fierceness spilling from her eyes. “Listen right here you two! And you as well, Malfoy. I don’t give a _fuck_ who sits beside me right now! Voldemort himself could sit here and I wouldn't care as long as I get to study or I _swear_ to Merlin, if I get anything _less_ than the top mark in the Charms’ quiz, I will personally beat you all senseless with your broomsticks! Now’s not the _fucking_ time for your _fucking_ petty fight!”

Harry and Ron’s mouths were dropped open and even Draco blinked, unease written on his face. A few students had looked up from their books and were watching the whole thing unfold with interest.

Harry swallowed hard before nodding at Draco, who took the seat beside her.

“Good.” She smiled brightly which only seemed to unnerve them even more. “Now, shut the fuck up. Focus on your work and don’t fucking talk to one another. Understood?”

The three of them nodded, fear laced in their eyes.

Slowly, as if trying to make the least minimal noise, Draco took out his Charms textbook and laid it on the table. He was close to her. So close their elbows were brushing up one another with each word they wrote using their quills. So close she could smell his aftershave of fresh citrus. Her hands were clammy and her stomach jumping every time he inhaled and exhaled. She could hear it all and, from the corner of her eyes, could see his smile. It was faint, barely there, but she knew that smile. That was her smile. It belonged to her and only her. He had given it to her when they spend that Saturday two weeks ago, tangled together in the Prefect’s Common Room.

Strictly speaking, Hermione wasn’t really studying for the Charms’ quiz. The textbook in front of her was an extra reading, a more in-depth look at what they’ve been taking in class.

And so, she could afford a few distractions.

Especially one she’d been craving for days.

Casually, she let her hand slip under the table and over his thigh.

He gave no indication of what just happened save for the sharp intake of breath he took in. Hermione smothered a grin and inched her hand a little ways north until she met with her goal.

This time he swallowed roughly, quill pressing a little too hard on the parchment. But he made no sound.

With a thrill running through her blood, she edged her fingers over his zipper before slowly and surely dragging it down. Thankfully, the rustling of pages and murmuring voices of those studying around them covered up the sound of metallic slider against the metallic teeth of the zipper.

The ink blotch on his parchment was growing wider and wider.

She slipped her hand inside over his boxers and found him ready. _Achingly_ ready.

She was sure the excitement she was feeling was the same he felt when he pressed his palm over her mouth during their first time, and all the times he asked her to beg him to fuck her harder. And she could exactly see why this was a high he never wanted to let go of.

Hermione shook her head slightly, letting the stray hairs that fell across her face fall back so he could see her expression clearly. Could see the mischievous delight. And to keep up appearances, she turned the page of the opened book in front of her.

Draco, on the other hand, was having a very difficult time. Breathing was difficult. Focusing on anything was difficult. He couldn’t even read the words written on the parchment. It was all very, _very_ difficult. Because she _still_ hadn’t touched him.

Hermione trailed one finger up and tantalizingly pulled on the waistband of his boxers until the length of him came free. As soon as she touched him, he hissed, masking it as a cough and Hermione bit back a laugh.

 _Oh, this is wonderful_ , she thought. 

At the sound of his cough, Harry looked up, brows furrowed and threw Draco an annoyed look before going back to his studies. Ron, however, was determined on ignoring Draco, as if the seat he occupied was air.

Both Hermione and Draco drew in a breath and she slowly wrapped her hand around him. He shifted in his seat. She stroked him just as he fucked her. With deliberately long, agonizing strokes. His hand gripped his quill too tightly and his breaths were getting deeper. But still, no one noticed. Hermione knew she would able to murmur an incantation under her breath that directed people’s attention away from them, but she didn’t want to. No. In this game, it would be him who would lose if they drew notice to themselves. He was the one with his zipper open.

Draco leaned forward, resting his forehead on his hand, hiding himself from view as if he were in deep thought and tried to buck against her hand, but she loosened her grip. She could almost hear his frustrated growl, and she smiled. He was hot in her grasp, heavy and aching. With every flick of her thumb over the head, he winced, but each time he tried to push against her, she would go slack. It was maddening, nearly driving him wild with desire and she began to see him lose control hair by hair. His pupils were blown, his whole body shivering, and his throat dipping with suppressing his pleasure.

He glanced towards her, eyes shining with need. His lips were parted open and when she applied a bit of pressure, his eyes fluttered as a surge of ecstasy bolted through him.

At that, she finally relented. She had tortured him way longer than he had tortured her. And so she picked up the pace, her grip sliding from the top all the way down and he closed his eyes, breaths caught in his throat. In mere seconds, he came, and Hermione didn’t stop until he covered his hand over hers.

His forehead was glistening with sweat, a couple of stray white-blonde hairs plastered to it, and she tucked him gently back inside before pulling up his zipper, the only evidence to what they just did was the stickiness on her hand.

She threw him a quick smile before standing up and gathered her notes and books.

“I’ll see you guys later,” she whispered to Harry and Ron who looked up at her in surprise.

“Where are you going?” Ron asked.

“I need a walk by the Great Lake. It’s a bit stuffy here.”

“Then can we go back to being mean to this dick?” Ron nodded towards Draco.

It took all of Hermione’s strength not to burst out laughing in the middle of a deadly quiet library.

“You don’t have to, Weasley,” Draco said, standing up, and it was only Hermione who noticed his steady voice wavering and his hands slightly trembling as he picked up his schoolbag. “Sitting so near you has killed enough of my brain cells. Any more time spent here, and I’ll probably be as dumb as you look.”

He threw him and Harry a dirty glance before walking out and turned right.

“I _fucking_ hate him,” Ron seethed.

“He’s not even worth it,” Harry said. “Hermione, you staying or walking?”

“No, I’m walking. I’ll see you later.”

They nodded at her and she tried her best to walk casually to the library doors, murmuring an enchantment to clean her hands before sprinting along the empty hallway after where Draco had turned.

But he wasn’t anywhere.

Suddenly, a door opened by one of the classrooms she was walking by and a hand clamped on her arm, pulling her in.

“ _You dirty minx_ ,” Draco rasped as he pushed her hard against the door, his mouth hot on hers.

She laughed giddily, her arms winding around his neck, pulling him closer. “I had to return the favour.”

He growled, nipping at her jawline and down to her neck and his hands snuck under her shirt, pressing on her back before cupping one breast. She moaned, arching into him.

“You _wanked_ me. In the library!” He said it like he couldn’t believe it just happened. “In _your_ precious, sacred library.”

She bit her lip, mirth dancing in her eyes, and then pulled on his tie, lips breaths away from him. “Oh, I’ll be doing _way_ more scandalous actions in _my_ precious, sacred library.”

He shuddered before kissing her again. Hard. Possessive. _Needing_.

“As much as I’d love to stay here and bend you over that desk over there,” he murmured, and his fingers teased her nipple. Her knees immediately weakened. “I cannot.”

“Why?” Her voice came out in a whine before she could stop herself and he laughed.

“I have to practice for the next Quidditch ma—what are you doing?”

She had unbuttoned her shirt and thrown her tie on the ground to reveal her bra. Where one of his hands was still wrapped around her breast. His gaze slid down, eyes darkening.

“Are you sure?” she purred, raising one eyebrow.

“Ah fuck it,” he muttered.

Her bra joined her clothes on the ground, and in the next second, she was bent over the professor’s desk her skirt pulled up and him zipping down his trousers to fuck her.

“ _Fuck_ , _Hermione_ ,” he swore when he thrust into her. “How much of a turn on was this for you?”

She scratched her nails along the wooden surface, moaning. He gathered her hair to the side, his fingers teasing her breasts and she whimpered.

“How much?” he asked against her ear, biting softly.

“I won this round,” she answered instead, turning her head to the side and kissing him.

He laughed, grey eyes twinkling. “Yes, you did.”

He lowered his head, kissing along her spine, leaving heat marks where his lips touched.

There would be no teasing in this. His hands tightened around her breasts and his thrusts became faster and harder until they both reached their climax at the same time.

Draco collapsed on top of her. He was still wearing his shirt, the buttons opened and the sliver of his skin pressed against her sweat-slicked back. Their breaths were heavy, hard and felt as if each one lasted a century. He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

“You’re amazing.” His voice was barely a whisper.

She smiled.

He pushed himself off before helping her up and cupped her cheeks.

“Amazing,” he repeated and kissed her. It was sweet. A perfect conclusion.

After that, he helped her put on her clothes, and she laughed when he fiddled with the bra.

“You know how to unclasp one but not how to hook it?” she giggled, looking back at him where he stood behind her, trying to push the straps together.

He frowned. “I’ve never had to do that before. You’re the only one I’d do that for.”

Something stirred in her stomach and she looked away before the emotion registered on her face.

“There,” he said after a few seconds when he succeeded, his voice low and he kissed the nape of her neck.

She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

She turned around and he smiled at her. _Her_ smile.

“I really have to go now,” he said, picking up her schoolbag and handing it to her. Although his expression and tone were telling a different story.

She nodded and stood on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yes,” he whispered, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

They walked towards the door and opened it. But they weren’t going anywhere.

Because Ginny Weasely was standing right in front of the classroom, arms crossed and eyebrows raised, her wand twirling in one hand. She scanned their disheveled hair and pink cheeks with narrowed eyes. 

“I think we need to talk,” she finally said.


	5. Explain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny found out and has demanded answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments! Truly, truly, truly I love them so much!
> 
> Ginny's one of my favourite characters in the series, and I also thought that her friendship with Hermione would have been something amazing if we got more moments of them together. Their power together would be a force to be reckoned with. Besides, Ginny has a sharp eye and a sharp wit and, man, do I love that in a girl!
> 
> This chapter gets soft!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

* * *

For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger’s brain was as blank as a white parchment. There were no words, nothing she could use to deter the anger in Ginny’s eyes.

“I—” she began lamely. Her throat was dry and her cheeks reddening with each passing second.

“We were discussing Head duties privately,” Draco said smoothly, every word spoken as if it’s the only truth, with no room for negotiations. To anyone other than Hermione, his posture was easy. Relaxed. But she knew that wasn’t the case. “We’re paired up for our next round, and so it doesn’t concern you, Weasely. Keep to yourself or else—”

“Or else what?” Ginny flashed back, red flashing in her eyes. “You’ll fuck my best friend again?”

Hermione winced. And even Draco’s jaw clenched for a fraction.

“Ginny, what are you talking about?” Hermione said, managing a nervous laugh. “You’re being really strange.”

Ginny pursed her lips together, tapping her foot on the floor and the sound of it echoed like a trap waiting to be sprung.

“So I wasn’t seeing things,” she said with raised eyebrows. “ _You_ ” —she pointed her wand at Hermione—“ _weren’t_ wanking _him_ ” — she pointed it at Draco—“in the library.”

Hermione’s heart fell off a cliff and she knew Draco’s was joining hers. But Ginny wasn’t finished.

“And then you came to this classroom for a little afternoon rendezvous session.” Her brown eyes were hard. “Tell me, was this also a part of your ‘Head duties’, Malfoy?”

This time it was Draco who looked utterly speechless, his throat dipping.

“So, do you want to start talking?” Ginny raised her wand between Draco’s eyes. “Or do I kill you right here and now?”

“All right, fine!” Hermione said loudly and grabbed Ginny’s hand before shoving her inside the classroom. Draco closed the door behind them.

“Hermione, what is going on?” Ginny asked. “Why are you… Oh _God_ , he’s blackmailing you, isn’t he?” With a newfound rage, she started towards Draco, wand forgotten but Hermione held her. Nevertheless, Draco took a step back. “You _fucking_ asshole!”

“Ginny, stop!” Hermione said firmly. “He’s not blackmailing me!”

Ginny’s shoulder’s flexed with suppressed fury. She turned her glower at Hermione. “Explain.”

Hermione nodded. “Just… sit down. And… give me your wand.”

Ginny looked at her with disbelief.

“I can’t trust you to hex him before I’m done talking.”

Ginny gave her a long glare before nodding slowly. Once she was sitting behind one of the desks and her wand was tucked safely in Hermione’s pocket, Hermione looked at Draco who gave her a small nod.

She smiled at him and extended her hand. He looked at it with surprise, lips parting open and then slid his hand into hers.

“Ginny,” Hermione began slowly, turning to her best friend. “Draco and I are…” She stopped, words failing her again. What was she to Draco? She knew what he was to her. But… if it wasn’t that. Then what term would she be using?

“ _What_?” Ginny snapped.

“We’re dating,” Draco said and both girls looked at him, shocked.

“ _What_?” Ginny repeated, looking like she was about to have a heart attack.

“We are?” Hermione asked softly.

He smiled at her before letting go of her hand to cup her cheeks. “Of course we are. Not exactly how I would have wanted to go on about it. But”—he glanced at Ginny—“as you can see the public isn’t ready.”

Hermione bit her lower lip, feeling her eyes smart up and he leaned down to kiss her.

“What. The. _Fuck_?” Ginny swore, breaking them out of their little trance.

With happiness in her heart, Hermione was able to find the words again. “Ginny, there’s no blackmail. There’s no Imperious curse or anything like that. I’ve had my eye on Draco for years now. But… there was so much animosity between our houses. So much bad blood with…”

“With how my family’s values are wrong,” Draco finished for her.

Ginny leaned back, her eyebrows disappearing in her hair. “Did… did you just admit you were wrong?”

Draco’s lips pulled into a thin line. “This doesn’t mean I like any of you. Nor that you suck any less.”

Ginny growled.

“There have been wrongdoings done on both sides,” Hermione said before they were at each other’s throats. “Ginny, you can’t deny that. We’ve painted the Slytherins as villains just because Voldemort was in that house. Just because some of the parents there are Death Eaters. But their children are _not_ them.”

Ginny took in her words and folded her hands. “It doesn’t excuse his shitty behavior.”

Hermione nodded. “It doesn’t. It doesn’t excuse ours either. But you haven’t seen him. Not as I have. Do you really think I would be with someone who hates everything that I am? Who hates Muggles and wants them dead?”

Draco flinched beside her, his head drooping just a bit.

“But I forgive him,” she continued and he blinked, his grey eyes turning a watery blue. Hermione raised her hands and brushed back his hair, caressing his cheeks. “I forgive him because he’s a better man. Because he wants to be better. Because he was hurt just as much. Because he’s repenting.”

Draco’s eyes fluttered and he trembled under her touch.

“Because in a world that has been shaping him to be everything that is wrong, he has been fighting against it. I won’t say it’s an easy process. And I won’t say he doesn’t need a lot of help. But I _see_ the effort. I see it. I see _him_.”

He shuddered in a breath and opened his eyes. They were full of pain. So much pain.

There were more words she wanted to say. Three simple words to be exact. But those were for him and her when they were alone. Not here, trying to bargain for their life with Ginny.

Speaking of Ginny, Hermione looked back at her to find her with her mouth agape and eyes so wide, they were about to engulf her face.

“Oh,” she finally said.

“So yes,” Hermione said, walking up to Ginny’s desk. “Draco and I are dating. We’ve been dating for a month now, I believe. And, Ginny, it’s been one of the best months of my life.”

Ginny swallowed hard, and then she looked at Draco. “So you’re not fucking around with my best friend? You’re not just using her for some sick fantasy or something?”

He shook his head. “If I hurt her, then I’ll give you my wand myself.”

After a few, long minutes, examining them both, Ginny finally nodded, satisfied. Then she let out a loud sigh. “You two should really be smarter about this.”

Hermione smiled and Draco came behind her, his arm snaking around her shoulder.

Ginny winced. “I need time to get used to this.”

Hermione’s smile deepened. “How about when we do this?”

She turned around, grabbed Draco by his tie, and crashed her lips against his. He spluttered for a moment before kissing her back.

“Oh, no!” Ginny nearly screamed. “Gross! _Grooooosssssss_!”

They let go of one another, laughing. His eyes were light, filled with mirth and she supported her hands on his shoulders, trying to get a handle on her laughter but every time she’d look at Ginny’s bewildered/horrified stare, she’d fall into one more fit.

“Yeah, I think I’m going to go vomit,” Ginny said, looking a little green.

“In all seriousness,” Hermione said. “You can’t tell anyone.”

Ginny grimaced. “Yeah, I figured that. But with the way you two are acting. You better hope it was only me who saw what went down in the library. And, while we’re on the topic, the library? Really, Hermione? Isn’t that like sacred grounds for you?”

Hermione crossed her arms. “Oh, as if you’ve never done _anything_ with Harry on _your_ sacred Quidditch field.”

Ginny’s face went a bright scarlet, her freckles nearly disappearing, and Draco covered his ears.

“I don’t want to hear any of this,” he said, backing away.

“All right, I get it.” She stood up, gathering her schoolbag before extending her hand. “Give me my wand, please.”

“You won’t hex him?” Hermione asked, holding it out. Draco still had his hands over his ears, thinking they were discussing Ginny’s love life.

Ginny shook her head. “I still don’t like him. But he seems to care about you a lot. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look at anyone like he looks at you. Not even at his Firebolt.”

Hermione smiled brightly.

“And you look happy.” Ginny smiled back. “Happier than you’ve been in a long time.”

“Oh, I am. I… Truth be told, I’m glad you know. I’ve been dying to talk to you about it.”

Ginny smiled wickedly. “Hermione Granger wants to talk boys? Wow, Draco Malfoy has really been fucking you well, hasn’t he?”

Hermione coloured up, and Ginny laughed.

“Sure. We’ll talk during dinner.” Ginny looked at Draco and waved her hand. “Hey, ferret boy!”

He scowled at her and lowered his hands.

“I’m serious. You two need to be more discreet. That means no more wanking in the library.”

Draco’s scowl slipped, morphing into a smirk. His arm went around Hermione’s shoulder again and he pressed a kiss to her hair. “I don’t think I can promise that, Weasely.”

His voice was low, and it reverberated all over her. Hermione shuddered, immediately wanting to take him to that library and fuck him right there between the bookshelves.

Ginny groaned. “Fine. It’s your head that Harry and Ron will be decapitating.”

And just like that the mood vanished. But Hermione wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Don’t worry, Draco. I’ll avenge you if they kill you.” She grinned and he relaxed, the tension between his eyebrows lessening. “And, let’s get one thing straight. It’s _my_ life. That’s something everyone here has to understand. I don’t have to ask _anyone’s_ permission whom I get to fuck or date. Least of all Harry and Ron. The only reason I’m not telling them is because it’s a headache to deal with and my time is now divided between studying and Draco. I do _not_ have time for their whining.”

Ginny was impressed. “Well, if it comes down to it. I’ll have your back.”

Hermione looked at her, surprised. “Really?”

Ginny shrugged. “You’re my best friend. If you’re happy, I’m happy. And you’re right. No one should tell you how to live your life, and you are the smartest girl this world has ever seen. If anyone’s sure of their decision…”

“It’s me,” she interrupted her.

Ginny grinned. “Good. Well, then. I guess I’ll be going. We’re meeting for dinner, yes?”

Hermione nodded, happily.

“Malfoy,” Ginny said, her voice still cold but some warmth tinged the edges.

“Weasely,” he replied.

She squeezed Hermione’s hand on the way out before closing the door and the two of them turned towards one another.

“Oh my God,” she breathed out, and he shook his head.

“Well, that happened.”

“It’s going to be fine.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “With you by my side, it’s going to be more than fine.”

Hermione swallowed hard.

“Did you really mean that?” he asked. “Not caring if people knew?”

She nodded. “I mean, I won’t deny it’s not a turn on, all this sneaking around. But, once the N.E.W.T.S are over, I will personally stand on top of the Gryffindor table and scream it for all to hear.”

He gathered her hands in his and pressed a kiss to them.

“But,” she continued and panic seared in his eyes. “I just have my friends to convince. You… you have your friends _and_ your family.” She swallowed hard. “And it’s not your friends that I worry about.”

Draco blinked and he dropped her hands to cup her cheeks instead. “Most likely, my family will not be… happy.” She rolled her eyes. Not happy was a small description to what they’d feel. “But you forget who I am.”

She looked at him inquisitively.

“My aunt is Andromeda Tonks.”

Hermione blinked. How had she not put those two pieces of information together?

“She was a Slytherin. And she married a Muggle-born,” he said, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks. “This has happened before in my family. Did she get shit for it? Big time. Did she regret her decision? Not ever. Because she was _right_. I feel _alive_ when I’m with you, Hermione. How can I leave that and go back to a colourless life? I don’t hate myself _that_ much.”

Her breath hitched in her throat.

He kissed her softly. “I know these will seem like mere words, but I will swear them. Even though I doubt this will come as a surprise to my family, seeing as I have not shut up about you for the past six years. But… if it’s between you or my family. I choose you. Always you. And not for anything but because they’d be basing their decision on something inherently wrong. And I… I can’t be a part of that anymore.”

His eyes were dripping with those three words she was holding back from saying. He had said them. Though not in their strict conformations. No, he said them in the vow he promised. In the shine in his eyes and the gentleness of his hands.

“Okay,” she whispered.

He lowered his head to kiss her and she clung to him like her life depended on it. Kissed all the leftover pain on his lips. His fingers dug in her hair, kissing her deeper until he was swallowing her gasps. She moaned a soft sound and he let go.

“If you do that,” he said, breathing heavily, his hands still in her hair, “we won’t leave this room again. And we’ve been here enough.”

She swallowed hard and nodded. “Then, we’ll meet later.”

“It’s all I’ll be thinking about.” He kissed her forehead before picking up his schoolbag and walking to the door. “I really, really need to leave before Weasely would have changed her mind about hexing me and comes back to find us on top of one another.”

She laughed. “All right. Go.”

He winked at her and shut the door behind him.

Hermione sank to the floor, her hand pressed against her chest, feeling the steady thud of her heartbeat.

“I love you,” she whispered, staring at the closed door. “So much.”


	6. A Bet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU TO ALL THE COMMENTS!
> 
> I will keep on updating this story as much as I can! So, don't worry, I'm not abandoning it until I give these two kiddos the HEA they deserve! I roll with the ideas that come to me, so sometimes they're ones I really wanted to write from the start and sometimes they just happen when I open my Word doc!
> 
> But I can say that I am looking forward to writing the next chapter ;)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> Mild smut

* * *

“So how good is he? Out of ten? I once overheard Jane Browley in the girls’ bathroom going on about how he’s a fantastic kisser,” Ginny asked through a mouthful of chicken and peas. She had come back from Quidditch practice, sweaty and ravenous before tugging on Hermione’s arm and making her sit beside her at the far end of the table.

Still, Hermione could see Draco. He had also intentionally moved to his end of the table, so she would be in his line of vision. And every time their eyes met, her heart would flutter.

“He’s fine,” she finally replied.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. “I know you were a virgin before him, Hermione. Fine isn’t going to cut it.”

Hermione bit her cheek. “Okay, he’s more than fine. He’s really, _really_ good at it. Ridiculously good.”

Ginny’s lips parted, eyes gleaming. “All right. Now we’re talking. Give me the details.”

Thankfully, the crowds during dinner were the perfect distraction for them to carry this conversation. Not to mention that Harry and Ron were surrounded by the other Quidditch team members, discussing today’s practice and the upcoming Charms’ quiz.

Hermione fidgeted with her hands.

“How big is he?” Ginny finally asked, and Hermione looked at her, shocked.

“ _Ginny_!”

Ginny shrugged, grinning. “Oh, come on! You know I’m going to be curious about that! The stories that circle around Malfoy’s infamous ways of getting girls into bed and all.”

Heat was creeping up on her neck and cheeks. “He’s… he’s big enough.”

Ginny sighed. “All right, I’ll take it. But he’s satisfying you, right?”

The heat was going to be the death of her and now she was wondering if it was too late to perform the Forgetfulness Charm on Ginny.

“Yes,” she whispered. “As I said, he’s ridiculously good.”

Ginny took another bite from her food. “Well, _you_ looked like you knew what you’re doing and all in the library.”

Hermione groaned, hiding her face between her hands. Now that the shock of Ginny knowing her secret had ebbed away, mortification filled her. God, she couldn’t _believe_ Ginny just sat there watching her do that. Maybe she should wing it, murmur _Obliviate_ and see what happens.

“How much did you see?” she asked instead.

She heard Ginny laughing.

“Only that Malfoy was about to combust if you didn’t let him come.”

She groaned even louder.

“I didn’t actually see anything. But it was pretty clear what you were doing with the way your hand was in his lap and his face looking like he was in pain.”

Hermione slid a hand down her face. Well, it was better than her seeing him in her hand.

Ginny took a swig of her pumpkin juice. “You better make him make up for all the times he’s been mean to you. Get him on his knees.”

“Oh he is on his knees,” Hermione answered immediately and Ginny raised her hand for a high five.

“Perfect!”

Hermione chuckled and high fived her.

“When are you seeing him again?” Ginny asked.

She shrugged. “Usually when we’re doing our Head patrols, him and I are able to sneak away and just—”

“Do it.” Ginny wiggled her eyebrows and Hermione laughed.

Ginny shook her head, still with a faint smile on her lips. “Honestly, I still don’t understand the _how_. Even the _why_. But… I haven’t seen Malfoy more human than in that classroom with you.”

Hermione glanced over at him where he had finished his dinner and was leafing through a book with that concentrated look on his face.

“I took our houses out of the equation,” Hermione said softly. “Do you ever think about that, Ginny? What if I were in Slytherin? Or he was in Gryffindor? All these silly fights we have with each other are nothing more than prejudices we created. Because you know how I feel?” She turned to Ginny who watched her, wide-eyed. “I feel like I’m playing Voldemort’s game where he already knows he’s won. With all this hate that is nothing more than what we made it. _They’re_ ”—she nodded towards the Slytherin table—"just like us. But they have to fight against everything they’ve been raised on and embrace whole new notions and they’re willing. _He’s_ willing.”

Ginny nodded. “You’re right. But… I doubt many will agree with you. Even here.”

Hermione smiled sadly. “Prejudice, from both sides, needs more than a day to declaw its fangs from our bodies. This… this will take a while. But I won’t let the fear of what anyone thinks stop me from doing what’s right. And this… this _is_ right, Ginny.”

Ginny grasped her hand. “I know. I mean, it’s strange to say it, to think of a possibility for redemption, but I know what you’re doing is right.”

Hermione squeezed her hand right back.

“He apologized for what he used to do to you, right?” Ginny asked. “Or else, I’ll march over there and shave that ridiculous hair of his.”

Hermione bit her lip to stop from laughing. “Yes, he did. Over and over again.”

Ginny grinned wickedly. “Oh, I know what _that_ means.”

Hermione shoved her lightly, and when she looked towards Draco, he was smiling at her.

 _A really bad fucking idea_ , Hermione mused as she smiled back, _but worth it_.

That Monday, Draco caught her before the Charms’ quiz, pulling her into an empty broomstick closet.

“Draco!” she exclaimed, and he kissed her before she was able to say anything else, pressing her to the door. 

“Don’t worry,” he said against her mouth. “No one saw me do that.”

“Yes, but I don’t have time for this,” she murmured, linking her arms around his neck. “The quiz is in fifteen minutes.”

He grinned. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Let’s make a little wager, shall we?”

She blinked. “A wager?”

His hand inched under her skirt, skimming along her thigh until he reached between her legs and her breath hitched. “If I get the highest mark, you give me something.”

Hermione shifted, trying to ground into his finger. “And if _I_ get the highest mark?”

“I’ll give you something. Whatever it is.”

 _Your heart_ , Hermione thought. _I want your heart._

She reached up and grabbed his tie, pulling him closer. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“You do know what ‘anything’ means, correct?”

He smirked, applying pressure with his finger, and she moaned. “Anything, Hermione.”

She swallowed hard. “And I suppose you want _anything_ from me too?”

He kissed her softly. “You suppose right.”

“Is it a sex thing?” she asked. “It is, isn’t it?”

He grinned, inching his finger under her panties, finally touching her and she let out a helpless sound. “Now, I can’t go on giving you a hint when the mysterious allure of it is half the fun.”

Hermione closed her eyes as he slid his finger in, teasing her and her knees buckled, breaths turning into gasps.

“But,” he whispered, biting lightly on the pulse hammering on her throat. “I do want you to use that clever mouth on me again.”

She shuddered at the roughness in his voice, the intensity swallowing her whole. And just as suddenly, he took his finger back and she felt as if she were doused in cold water.

“I’ll see you in class.” He smiled and kissed her lips before slipping out of the closet, leaving her high and wanting.

It took Hermione a couple of seconds to gather her thoughts and her breaths back to a steady, normal rate. Then it clicked in her mind.

“ASSHOLE!” she screamed, kicking a stray bucket.

He played dirty, coaxing her body and mind into a high sense of need so she could focus on nothing but him and the promise of his fingers and _him_ in her.

Hermione shook her head furiously, gathering her mental state, focusing every single brain cell on revenge and marched right out with the will of a soldier charging into battle.

He was lounging in his usual seat by the window, legs on the table, surrounded by his friends and when he caught a glimpse of her angry—aroused— red face, he smirked.

Hermione bit her tongue before she walked right up to him and made him very, _very_ sorry for what he did. She wasn’t entirely sure what she would have done, but it involved pain. Loads of it.

“Everyone in your seats!” chirped Professor Flitwick, walking in. “Quiz will be handed out right now!”

She quickly took a seat two desks behind Draco. The quiz paper floated in front of her and she had to take several deep breaths, banishing him out of her mind before starting it. For the most part, it worked. Save one question.

_What year was the Levitation Charm invented?_

“Fuck,” Hermione swore under her breath.

She knew that every single question she had answered till now was right, but this one, she was unsure of.

_1544 or 1455? 1544 or 1455? 1544 or 1455?_

She kept repeating the numbers in her mind until they stopped making sense and she didn’t know what a four from a five was. Glancing up from her paper, she saw that Draco had long since finished, had given in his quiz and was now twirling his quill between his fingers, staring straight ahead with a victorious grin. He had heard her.

 _I’m going to kill him._ Hermione thought. _I’m going to tear that smirk off his face._

“Five minutes left!” piqued Professor Flitwick and her blood turned to ice.

 _Come on, Hermione._ _1544 or 1455? 1544 or 1455? 1544 or 1455?_

But it was too late to dissect each number and find out its origin and so she chose randomly before Professor Flitwick summoned the quizzes with his wand.




And as soon as the paper flew from her hands, she knew she had written the wrong year. All that was left for her now was to pray that Draco got two marks less. She couldn’t focus the entire class, counting down the seconds until it was over, foot tapping nervously on the floor.

“You coming, Hermione?” Harry asked as he and Ron gathered their schoolbags.

“Need to ask Flitwick something about the quiz,” she said in a loud voice so Draco could hear and he did, muttering an excuse to his friends.

When everyone filed out, Hermione closed the door behind them.

Professor Flitwick was sitting on his chair, peering at the parchments in his hands and Draco leaned against the desk in front of him with a smug smile and his arms folded.

“Professor,” she said breathlessly and he looked up at her.

“Ms. Granger, is something the matter?”

“Professor, please,” she said, walking up to him, her hands trembling. “Can you please correct me and Dr- Malfoy’s quiz paper? Please? I need to know who got the higher mark! I won’t be able to eat or sleep, sir. I _can’t_ wait until the next class. _Please_. _Please_. _Pl_ —”

He held up a hand and she stopped chattering, grasping at her skirt.

“Fine, fine,” he said offhandedly. “I’ve got a free period now anyway.”

“Thank you so much!”

“Don’t thank him yet, Granger,” Draco said lazily.

Hermione threw him a glare and she could hear her heart thudding in her ears.

Professor Flitwick shook his head before taking out both of their quizzes and set on correcting them. All the while, Hermione couldn’t stop herself from silently pleading, begging anyone— _anything_ —to grant her this one thing. That despite Draco underhanded tactics, she would _still_ win.

After a few minutes, Professor Flitwick sighed, looking up. “Hermione Granger, nineteen out of twenty.”

She closed her eyes, her stomach leaping like a frog.

“Draco Malfoy, full marks.”

Draco let out a laugh and she groaned, sinking to the floor and hugged her knees.

He won.

Professor Flitwick looked between them, frowning. “I have no idea what’s happening here but, Ms. Granger, you know you would need to fail about fifty of my quizzes before you take anything less than an Outstanding, right? Nineteen is as good as a full mark.”

“Thank you, Professor,” she said in a small voice from the floor.

“Don’t worry about it, Professor,” Draco said, barely suppressed glee coating every word. “We had a bet and the loser would need to take up extra Head duties.”

“Oh,” Professor Flitwick said, surprised. And Hermione didn’t know if it was a good _oh_ or a bad _oh_. If he’d never thought a day would come when Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy would be partaking in bets of all things.

“All right, you two,” he said and stood up, enchanting his belongings to fly after him. “Good job and I’ll see you in the next class. Hermione, don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Draco closed the door when Professor Flitwick walked out and turned around. She was still on the floor and so he walked right up to her and crouched down.

“Ms. Nineteen,” he murmured, eyes shining. “I do believe you owe me _anything_.”

She bit her lip and let out a frustrated growl. “You cheated!”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “There were rules?”

She groaned.

Draco reached forward and kissed her forehead. “I have to say I didn’t think you’d get more than a seventeen. Not by the way you were standing at the door looking all riled up and begging to be snogged against the wall then killing me right after. I’m impressed.”

She let a small smile appear and took a deep breath. “Well, what is it you want from me, Lord Malfoy Ruler of All?”

He snorted. “The library tonight at midnight. I know your classes are late tomorrow, so it won’t affect your schedule.”

She blinked. “The library?” she repeated.

He nodded. “At the Astronomy section. Meet me there.”

And with a final kiss on her lips that had her clutching on to his collar, he got up and walked out, leaving her to wonder if he had planned the whole thing from the start. That he knew he would win.

“Well, there you go, Hermione,” she whispered to herself. “You’ve gone and fallen in love with someone who makes _plans_.”

And she laughed.


	7. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for the comments!  
> This will be updated with a new chapter! 
> 
> And yes we have Smut here with a capital S XD

* * *

“You’re seriously breaking the rules for him?” Ginny whispered where they were sitting in the Gryffindor common room. There were a few people scattered around the fireplace, either scribbling their homework or chatting. And the clock was twenty minutes away from striking 12 am.

Hermione fastened her cloak over her and cast Ginny a smile. Ginny blinked at the careless expression on her face.

“Weren’t you the one who told me that life wasn’t just studying?” Hermione asked.

Ginny frowned. “Yes, but I thought you’d down five firewhiskies in one go or maybe ride my Nimbus a bit or something. Not sneak off into the library to fuck Draco Malfoy!”

Hermione threw her a pointed look. “Lower your voice! And it’s going to be all right.”

Ginny sighed, flopping down on an armchair. “Fine! Whatever! Go, I’ll cover for you.”

Hermione patted her head and Ginny scowled but there was no malice in it. “Thank you.”

“Make sure it’s the best sex he’s ever going to give you,” Ginny said, winking.

Hermione gave her one last grin and a wink before walking out of the dormitory. The hallways were quiet and even the Fat Lady was snoozing. Hermione had considered asking Harry for his Invisibility Cloak, but then thought against it as it would have certainly raised too many questions that would most definitely mean her and Draco’s secret would be exposed by the end of the week. If she were caught on her way to the library, she’d just breakdown, claim that the N.E.W.T.S have succeeded in making her paranoid and in dire need of being near the library in order to feel some relief. Regardless, Hermione kept to the scarcely used hallways, using her wand to direct her through the darkness. To her relief, she didn’t encounter anyone and was finally standing in front of the library’s doors. Which were slightly open, meaning Draco was already there.

Hermione checked her watch. 11:55 pm.

She slipped inside, her heart expanding at seeing her library. The one place that always felt like home to her. The tables and chairs were empty, the moonlight filtering through the high windows created eerie silver puddles. The Astronomy section was towards the back. Hermione could walk through these bookcases and shelves blindfolded, knowing exactly where she was.

When she reached the Astronomy part, her heart fluttered at seeing him standing there. His back was to her and he was flicking through a rather large book in his hands. His blonde hair was white while the shadows stretched over him hauntingly.

He looked painfully beautiful.

“Hey,” she whispered, and he turned around, and she knew she was wrong before. _Now_ , he looked _devastatingly_ beautiful.

His face shined with a smile and he put the book back in its place before rushing towards her and hugging her.

“You came,” he said, his voice muffled in her hair and Hermione swallowed hard.

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

He squeezed her tight. “Is it weird that every time we plan to meet, I still think you might bail on me?”

She shook her head. “I have that too.”

He leaned back immediately, catching her shoulders, his eyebrows furrowed. “Was it something I did?”

“What? No. It’s just my paranoia.”

“I would _never_ bail on you, Hermione,” he said earnestly, his grey eyes looking like two moons. “If I didn’t show up, it would be because I’m dead or I was being followed.”

She bit back a laugh. “I believe you.” Her eyes trailed around the library. “Why did we meet here?”

Draco smiled. “I want to show you my favourite place in this school. One, I don’t think you know about.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Draco, I know every inch of this place. I doubt—”

But her words died when Draco, with a knowing grin, took out his wand and pointed it at the bookshelf he was just standing in front of and murmured, “ _Occulatum_.”

The bookshelf started to creak, the wooden parts of it trembling before it swung open, revealing a small passageway that bent upwards.

“Your mouth is open, love.” He winked at her and stepped inside.

Hermione closed her mouth, looked around her quickly and then followed after him. As soon as she stepped inside, the bookshelf groaned back in its place and darkness settled over her. She swallowed hard, her heart beating a bit too fast.

“Hermione?” Draco called a few ways in front of her. “Are you just going to stand there?”

She exhaled and ran up, wanting to get away from the darkness, nearly bumping into him.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, holding her back. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “The—uh—it was too dark.”

He brushed her hair back and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We’re here.”

And Hermione finally looked around her.

She was standing in the middle of a dome-like room, only the walls and ceiling were made of glass and nearly everything in front of her was the night sky, dotted with the constellations. A few trees swayed in the darkness, and Hermione had never seen the stars so close nor so bright in her life. They were drenched in moonlight and starlight. On the ground where they were standing were a couple of blankets and pillows, a tray of cheesy buns and a few cans of Butterbeer. 

“What do you think?” he asked, looking shy for the first time since she’d know him.

Hermione turned to him, her eyes wide and linked her arms around his neck, pulling him to her lips and kissed him.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, peering under her lashes. “So perfect.”

He beamed which made Hermione want to kiss him again, and so she did. He stumbled back, sitting down over the blankets, dragging her with him, their lips not breaking. She laughed against his mouth and he twisted her under him, running his hands along the lengths of her body before cradling her cheeks.

“How long have you been planning this?” she whispered when he stopped kissing her lips so he could focus on the pulse on her neck. “How did you find this place?”

“So many questions,” he murmured, slipping a hand under her shirt, cupping her bra.

She giggled, but he leaned back all the same, his hand still pressed over breasts.

“Total coincidence,” he said, his hair falling over his eyes and his lips red from her kisses. “I heard about it in passing in one of our family gatherings. So two years ago, I wanted to check if it’s real and it was. No one else here seemed to know about it. And I remembered that the library is your favourite place, and judging by what happened the last time you and I were here”—he smirked and she blushed—“I thought this would be quite the surprise for you.”

“And just how many girls have you brought here?” she asked, raising her eyebrows teasingly. “It’s quite the romantic place. Would make any girl lay on her back before you can say Quidditch.”

The playfulness in his expression slipped replaced with something akin to a fiery intensity. “You’re the first girl I ever brought here.”

Hermione blinked.

Draco looked away, pink tinging his cheeks. “I—the first time I stumbled here, the very first thought that came to my mind was you. I thought, ‘ _Granger would really love this place’_. It didn’t occur to me in a million years that I would _actually_ be able to be here with you.”

Hermione’s heart was beating fast—too fast—against his hand.

She raised her hands, pulling his face back to look at her and nudged his lips open with hers. He took in a sharp breath before surrendering to her, kissing her like his life depended on it. There was none of the frenzy that laced their previous encounters. This was one full of passion, full of those three words she still hadn’t said. Draco moaned against her lips, his hand now skimming along her back. While he unclasped her bra, she set to work on his shirt, pulling it off him before fiddling with his zipper. She leaned up to shrug her shirt off and he slid her skirt down. Soon enough, they were skin on skin and she let out a whimper when his fingers finally came between her legs. He slipped a finger in, teasing her and she arched her back, gasping.

Suddenly, he stopped. Stopped touching her, stopped kissing her and Hermione opened her eyes to see him sitting up with an anxious look.

“What?” she said, shaking her head, needing a few seconds to dissolve the intoxicated muddle in her brain. “Is something wrong?”

He swallowed hard. “I—I didn’t bring you here just so I could just sleep with you. I mean, yes there are blankets and pillows but it wasn’t for this. It was just for… sleeping under the stars. I’m not… you don’t _have_ to do this.”

She looked up at him, exasperated. “Draco, I know perfectly well I don’t _have_ to do this. I want to. Now come here.”

When he didn’t move, she personally sat up and crawled to him. His gaze fell to her naked silhouette and back to her eyes.

“You said it’s enough to have any girl on her back,” he said, his throat dipping. “I need you to know that’s not what I had in mind.”

She smiled. “Of course I do. But it’s what _I_ had in my mind.” Before he could say anything, she cupped his cheeks and kissed him. “I also remember that you wanted me to use my clever mouth on you.”

He coloured up. “I—I was just trying to tease you then.”

Her smile deepened and she bent her head to take him in her mouth.

“ _Fuck_!” he swore, squeezing his eyes shut.

Encouraged by his sighs and moans and the way he kept trying to push deeper in her mouth, Hermione didn’t stop. He threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her in place, shuddering.

“Hermione,” he tried again after a minute and his voice broke.

She looked up, cheekily. “Yes?”

He growled, pushing her back against the blankets and she fell with a laugh that disappeared when his lips captured hers one more time.

“You’re a minx,” he murmured.

She grinned.

“May I?” he asked, brushing her hair out of her face and she nodded, heart thudding.

He got into position before slowly pushing in and Hermione gasped, stretching her neck over the pillow. Draco’s own breaths imprinted on her throat, his arms going under her shoulders and he pulled her closer to him.

“I’ve missed you _so much_ ,” she breathed and he stilled. Emotion had coated every word and he looked up to taste them on her lips.

His eyes were open windows to his soul and Hermione’s heart twinged with an ache. He didn’t say anything but the way he moved inside her, the way he was able to electrify every cell in her, bringing her to that high edge were everything he wanted to say. His movements were slow, calculated but they had none of the teasing. No, he wasn’t fucking her now. He was making love.

Her breath caught in her lungs, her moans low and her fingers scratched along his back, dragging. He dipped down, taking one of her breasts in his mouth, his tongue teasing her nipple and Hermione saw stars burst in her vision. Her back was arched, her skin dewy with sweat and there was so much heat that she knew the room was about to go up in flames at any second. His lips were at her throat, planting a bruise over her pulse, his hands running all over her curves, and wherever he touched, flames came to life.

“ _Draco_ ,” she whimpered when the ache twisted in her stomach into knots over knots. 

He swallowed hard, pressing his forehead against hers, his breaths ragged. “Whatever you wish, Hermione,” he said throatily.

He thrust harder, deeper before his fingers came between them and Hermione cried out, digging her nails in his back. He gasped, his other hand tightening on her shoulders and she wrapped her legs around his waist, desperately trying to feel more.

“Look at me,” he managed to whisper and Hermione realised her eyes were closed.

She opened them to stare into his own eyes. Hair stuck to his forehead, lips parted and wild-eyed. And there was a certain serenity in his eyes. One that finally tipped her over the edge.

He kissed her gasps away, swallowed her cries, bit her lower lip and, soon enough, his own thrusts became erratic, irregular and he finally shattered.

Not able to hold himself up any longer, Draco collapsed on her, careful not to crush her under his weight and his ragged breaths echoed all over. She wound her arms around his shoulders, hugging him to her while he tucked his head in her neck, trying to get a control over his lungs. Hermione’s eyes were half-closed and she was swimming hazily in the fragments of ecstasy lacing her blood. The ache was gone from her body save for her heart where its concentration was at an all-time high. He was _literally_ on top of her, skin on skin, and yet, she felt as if he were miles away. She never wanted to leave this room, wanted to exist in this time forever, away from the noise and hatred.

Finally, when his breathing settled back to a steady state, he untangled himself from her, laying on his side and pulled her closer to him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked noticing her troubled look, his voice rough around the edges.

 _God, he’s beautiful_ , she thought, watching the stars’ light bathe him in their magic.

“Nothing,” she whispered, not trusting herself to be louder.

He raised his eyebrows. “Liar.”

She bit her tongue then said, “I’m happy. Feeling a bit melodramatic that tonight will end.”

He blinked then trailed his fingers along her cheek. “I’m happy too,” he said softly. He caught her hand in his before bringing up to his lips and kissed them. “Tell me something, Hermione.”

“What?”

His eyes sparkled. “What would you have wanted from me if you won?”

Her pulse sped up and butterflies flapped their wings in her stomach. “Um, I was—”

“Don’t lie,” he whispered.

She stopped, reading the words in his eyes. “Looks like you already know,” she finally said.

“That you want my signature on your Elf rights group,” he answered, looking very serious.

Hermione froze, the butterflies dying. “R-Right.”

He bit his lip before bursting out laughing and he crushed her to his chest, breathing in the flowery scent in her hair. “I’m kidding. But I won’t let you say it first. _I’m_ the one who won.”

Her heart restarted and before she could say anything else, he leaned back, brushing her hair out of her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks.

“I love you, Hermione Granger,” he murmured, his eyes a deep grey shade. “I’ve probably loved you since you slapped me during our third year. I love you so much it scares me.”

Her eyes began to smart, and her mouth felt dry. All she could see was Draco Malfoy and the way his eyes couldn’t get enough of her.

“I—I love you too,” she whispered, not believing that this was happening. But once the words were out, she couldn’t hold them in. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love—”

He kissed her, and her hands cradled his cheeks, feeling them wet with his own tears. They were, in every literal sense, an oddity. All the signs had pointed to them not being together, not falling in love. And here they were, in each other’s arms, lips moving against lips, defying all expectations.

“ _Hermione_ ,” he said hoarse with emotion. She was straddling him now, kissing the bruises her teeth created on his neck and shoulders. “You love me? This isn’t an elaborate joke, is it?”

She glanced down at him, her wild hair creating a seclusion for them, and shook her head. “You and I, we’re going to have a life together.”

“Promise?” he whispered. His eyes were wide and full of hope, hanging on to each word she was saying.

She smiled warmly and kissed his forehead. “We’ll get an apartment in London after we graduate. Get a job at the Ministry because that’s where we’ll make real change. We’ll decorate our apartment with plants and flowers and so many books we’ll barely be able to walk through without knocking a pile to the floor. We’ll go out together, holding hands for all to see, and at night, we’d need to cast a few spells because I plan on being _very_ loud. No more hiding. No more secrets. It’s you and I and the world may choke on their prejudice for all I care.”

His expression softened with every word she said until he raised a hand to cover his eyes, sniffing loudly.

“You’re ruining my cold persona here, love,” he said, clearing his throat.

She laughed lightly. “Sorry, Draco, but that image doesn’t exist in my mind anymore. I _know_ you now.”

He laughed and then suddenly flipped them, so she was under him again. “I will make that dream become a reality, Hermione,” he said softly. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. Aside from you.”

“ _Mmm_ ,” she hummed, locking her arms around his neck. “I like hearing that.”

He smiled, dropping his lips beside her ear. “I want you, Hermione. I can’t breathe. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. All I’ve wanted for years and years was you. And now that you’re mine, I think I’m dreaming.”

His fingers trailed along her inner thigh until he reached between her legs and Hermione gasped. He teased, awakening her body one more time until she was clutching his arms, neck outstretched.

“ _Draco_ ,” she moaned. “Please.”

“I love it when you say my name,” he chuckled and his fingers sped up, letting her fall apart. “Good?” he whispered after a while, watching her come back to herself.

She nodded, unable to say anything, her eyelids getting heavy. And she closed them, feeling him shift beside her before throwing a blanket over them and enveloping her in his arms.

“I’m glad you won,” she murmured, settling closer to him, their legs intertwined.

He smiled against her hair and his hold tightened.

“We’re staying here until tomorrow, right?”

He kissed her head. “Yes, love.”

Hermione relaxed and half opened her eyes, watching the dancing stars until sleep lulled her into a dream of London apartments filled with potted plants and a white blonde-haired boy who spun her in their living room.


	8. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aahhh the comments! The beautiful feedback y'all leave! You have no idea how much they make me smile!
> 
> I know I upload a bit irregularly, but with everything that's happening in the world as y'all know, things are weird! Like online classes which I unfortunately have!  
> But I will be writing this story to its conclusion!  
> To think I really thought it would be just a one-shot xD
> 
> Hope you like this one ;)

* * *

Hermione Granger, a muggle-born and brightest witch of her age, was in love with Draco Malfoy, pure-blood and son of former Death Eaters. And with the way he bared his soul to her, Hermione knew his heart was in her hands to do what she wished.

It had been quite some time since she had felt happiness of this sort. This love that flowered in her heart and she could see its petals everywhere. With the way he would sneak shy smiles in her direction when he thought nobody was looking or the faint pink blush on his cheeks whenever she brushed against him in the hallways. And Hermione wondered how she ever thought him to be as cold as ice when his heart was so warm to the touch, she thought she would burn from holding it for so long.

Nevertheless, she knew this tenderness extended only to her. That cracking that glacier layer that he had on his skin would take patience and time. Still, he tried. Instead of throwing cruel jokes or biting words to anyone, he kept to himself. Sitting in the front of the class, taking notes and afterward, would join his friends in the Great Hall. He had stopped instigating fights, although whenever Ron would say anything— it didn’t matter if it wasn’t to him— his jaw would clench with unspoken words and Hermione could see how he was in a battle with himself not to completely eviscerate Ron on the spot. There were still moments when he would sneer at Harry and Ron and Hermione knew this was something that Draco would never stop doing. She didn’t begrudge him that. Both parties were usually to blame as Harry and Ron didn’t hold back either with their glares and snide remarks.

Yet his change was apparent. People had started to notice that Draco talked less and less with non-Slytherins and when he did, it was always in the most formal speech he could muster as if he were some programmed robot.

Not to mention that he had stopped partaking in the Slytherins’ practical jokes, focusing more on his studies and answering questions in class. And even though they did agree to find a middle ground at his teasing her, he didn’t.

“Draco,” she had admonished him in one of their rendezvous during Head duties. “If you continue acting like this, it won’t be long before people piece it together!”

His lips were on her throat, his arms around her in a tight grip and the broomcloset they were in was providing a delicious tight space for their bodies to be as pressed up against each other as much as possible.

“I don’t care,” he murmured, leaving open-mouthed kisses along her collarbones and up to her ear where he tugged on her earlobe. She shuddered, moaning softly.

She steadied her hands on his shoulders before pushing him away with all the strength she could muster at the moment, which wasn’t a lot to begin with. Not with his kisses firing her blood like that. But he moved back immediately.

“Draco,” she tried again, her eyes catching on his flushed face and the heady look in his dark gaze. They were the colour of wintery storms. And her thoughts faltered. _God_ , how was he this beautiful and all hers?

“Hermione, love,” he whispered, cradling her cheeks when she openly gaped at him without saying anything for a couple of seconds, taken by his beauty. “I can’t.”

She snapped out of her thoughts and frowned. “Can’t?”

He smiled. “I can’t say anything mean or hurtful to you. I just can’t.”

She blinked.

“I tried,” he continued, brushing his lips against her face. “The first day, I _really_ did try. But the words just couldn’t come out. I _love_ teasing you but… my version of it now isn’t to hurt you. It’s to excite you, to challenge you, to make you fall even more in love with me. How can I ever utter any word that would be the opposite of that?”

Her mouth dropped open and he smirked at the flabbergasted look in her face.

“I mean—” she cleared her throat. “All right.”

“I love catching you off guard like this,” he chuckled, threading his fingers through her curls. “You look positively adorable perplexed. Want to hear more words like that?”

She swallowed hard, inching closer to him.

His breaths tickled her ear as he whispered, “You own me. Completely. To me, you’re the sun and the stars and the quintessence of magic. How could I have ever been so lucky to have you forgive me and love me?”

The words— though they were over the top and dramatic as was his nature— were tinged with the truth. One she heard loud and clear. She linked her arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his lips.

“All right, I get it,” she murmured.

His mouth covered hers once more and she staggered against the doorway with his body melding into hers and that was the end of that discussion. 

They both knew they were on borrowed time. That with each passing day, the inevitability of their discovery loomed bigger and bigger. But with the N.E.W.T.S being mere months away, even though she desperately wanted to, she couldn’t just strut into the Great Hall holding hands with Draco Malfoy and sitting together. The drama that would unfold in its wake would be incomparable and Hermione wasn’t sure if she would be able to handle it with the stress of studying. Draco, on the other hand, was completely on board with this plan. His mischievous streak was still strong, albeit directed in different outlets.

“To see the look on Potter and Weasley’s faces,” he had said when they were tangled up together in their bed in the Prefect’s Common Room one lazy Sunday afternoon. “It would be worth everything.”

She supported herself on her arms, raising her eyebrows at him.

“And—uh— defying the prejudices and to show you off to the world,” he corrected, his smirk slipping.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

“Your priorities need to be addressed,” she said, moving to lay on top of him and he sighed. “But I’ll allow it.”

He grasped the back of her neck, pulling her to his lips, kissing her in a way that had her begging him to be inside her.

They had been secretly dating for about four months. And around Christmas, Hermione had opted to stay at Hogwarts during the Christmas break to maximize her time at studying for the N.E.W.T.S. While Draco had to go home as his mother had missed him too much, and he had never spent a Christmas away from his family.

“Christmas time is a seven-course dinner around a long table in my home with all the pureblood cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents,” Draco told her the day before he left in the Prefect’s Common Room in their bed. “And, yes, it is as awkward and cold as you can imagine. Hearty talks are discouraged.”

She smiled sadly, remembering the homey feeling she’d have when she woke up in her room Christmas morning while her father made dessert for breakfast and her mother poured freshly brewed coffee while she laughed at his jokes. They would all huddle beside the Christmas tree, ripping open presents, their laughter ringing against the ceiling. It was the same atmosphere felt in Ron’s home. As if she had drunk a huge cup of hot cocoa.

“It isn’t too bad,” he said when he noticed her crestfallen expression. “After everyone leaves, Mother, Father and I have our own small celebration with presents. It’s pretty fun.”

“Do you mean to tell me that Lucius Malfoy actually _smiles_ in these intimate celebrations?” Hermione teased.

Draco laughed. “He sure does.”

“Well, we won’t be having any of those cold dinners in our apartment,” she said, brushing his hair back and he closed his eyes as he always did when she talked about their future. “It’ll be you, me and Crookshanks.”

He chuckled and opened and his eyes for a fraction. “And what would we do?”

She smiled. “Slow dance in our living room to songs from the fifties. Wrap ourselves in warm blankets and watch the snow fall. And later at night, I would wear that new lingerie I bought as a gift, and you’d tear it off me.”

“I love the way your mind works.” He grinned and kissed her. “Speaking of gifts, I have something for you. An early Christmas present.”

She leaned back, blinking. They hadn’t really talked about getting the other a gift. But it didn’t stop her from buying him something as well, although she was feeling a bit shy about it, and was debating whether she should give it to him or not. She had seen it the week before when she was in Hogsmeade and immediately went in to buy it.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said.

“I wanted to.” He got off from the bed, and her eyes trailed over his firm, muscled body. From his school bag, he pulled out an old, brown book, tattered from the edges, the spine weak and the pages yellow-stained.

Hermione hoisted herself up and raised her eyebrows. He sat down, taking her hands and laying them on the book.

“This is the first edition of Jane Austen’s diary, written by her hand.”

Surely she must have misheard him. Of all the things she expected to be said, this was not it. She shook her head. “Excuse me? This… this is… _what_?”

He smiled. “Jane Austen, the novelist. Isn’t she a very prominent one in the Muggle world?”

Her mouth dropped open and she needed a few moments to recover. “How the _hell_ do _you_ know about Jane Austen?”

His smile turned sly and he winked. “Love, it’s true us Malfoys stick to the pureblood part of life, but we’re no fools. Literature and art that could increase our power and one we can enjoy are very much sought after. So we collect them. Besides, Jane Austen was a suspected witch herself. Whether that is a rumor started to lessen the disgust from those around us who know we own such Muggle artifacts, I don’t know. But I do know that her words are beautiful. And for a bookworm like yourself, I thought” —he was turning bashful now, scratching the back of his neck— “I thought you might appreciate it.”

Hermione swallowed hard, emotion bubbling in her chest, and she felt the burn of them behind her eyes.

He shook his head, nerves taking over. “Too much for a Christmas present? It’s all right if you don’t—”

“Shut up,” she interrupted, pressing her fingers to his lips. Tears brimmed at the sides of her eyes. “It’s gorgeous. It’s… Merlin’s beard, it’s… I have no words.”

“Well, that’s a first,” he murmured against her fingers and kissed them.

“Don’t joke,” she whispered. “I can’t… Draco, I can’t accept this.”

His eyes widened. “Why not?”

“It’s too priceless. You… what if you regret it? What if… something happens and we…”

She couldn’t say it. Not without succumbing into tears. And she wasn’t talking about the book either. It was merely a metaphor for what she was scared to say, hiding behind beautiful dreams of a future she desperately wanted. And he knew. He always knew.

He brushed her hair back and pressed his forehead to hers. “Love, I’m in this for the long run. No what ifs, no buts, no nothing. Say the word and we’ll get dressed right now and walk out of this Common Room where I’ll kiss you in front of the whole bloody school.”

She squeezed her eyes. “That’s okay,” she managed to say.

He stroked her cheeks, lifting her head up and smiled softly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she whispered, and he kissed her, the book falling between them until she nudged it out of the way to straddle him, pushing him over the pillows and blankets.

“I got you something too,” she murmured against his lips and his whole face lit up.

“What?”

She dragged a hand over her face, half hiding from him. “It’s not a Jane Austen first edition diary.”

“I don’t care. I want it,” he demanded, looking affronted, whisps of his white-blonde hair sticking to his forehead. 

She bit her lip in amusement as the spoiled part of him seeped out. “It’s really not that much, and I’m feeling quite embarrassed by it.”

“My God, Hermione!”

He sat up and she slid off him slightly, feeling her heart beat as fast as a galloping horse.

“Please?” he whispered, holding her hands and kissing them. “I will love it. I know I will.”

She sighed and got up to take it out from her school bag. It was wrapped in a broomstick-print gift wrap and he took it from her immediately before carefully unwrapping it.

He looked taken aback, swallowed hard, once, twice before looking up at her, his eyes a watery blue.

“Hermione,” he said in a choked voice. “Is this…”

“I have the other one,” she whispered.

It was a black notebook, the cover of it the constellation he was named after, the papers’ edges rimmed in gold and when he opened the first page, there was a single line written.

_I love you._

“Everything you write in that, it will show up in mine,” she said, taking out her own. It was also black and stenciled gold at the pages, but her cover was a cat, and he laughed.

“This way,” she said, smiling, “you and I can always talk even if we’re miles apart. We can plan our future, talk dreams and just… _talk_. Because I miss you when I’m not with you and there are no phones here, so… this is the next best thing.”

He put the notebook down delicately as if it were made from diamonds before pulling her arm so she could fall on top of him. His arms were tight around her, his head in the crook of her neck, his lips moving in a fervent prayer of reciting her name. She shuddered in a breath before becoming a feather in his embrace, and he spent the rest of the afternoon until the very last second, showing her exactly how much he worshipped the ground she walked on.

It was the first week of January and Hermione was sitting by the Grand Lake, going over her Herbology notes. It was still cold, but she had had enough of staying indoors and had decided to wear every item of clothing she owned before going out.

Harry and Ron had returned yesterday from Ron’s place, laden with mince pies and other food assortments Mrs. Weasely packed them with for her. Ginny had also spent Christmas home and Hermione was glad when she came back. She had missed her best friend.

But she missed Draco more. He had written in their notebook, detailing how absolutely boring the Christmas dinner was and how he would have liked to spend that time instead. With her, his lips exploring every inch of her body. Her heart had beat a bit too fast, and her temperature rose before she slid her hand between her thighs, his written words bringing her to that ecstasy. And he knew, teasing her about it and promising her that the first thing he would do as soon as he returned was to transform his words to reality.

He would be coming back today, and Hermione couldn’t deny that her stomach was fluttering with butterflies, her skin itching to touch his. For him to kiss her and be inside her.

She stopped by the edge of the Great Lake. It had begun to snow and she watched the flakes touch the lake’s surface before melting into water. It was mesmerising, and Hermione felt at peace, the thoughts in her mind calming down.

That is until she heard faint voices and turned around to see a group of five Slytherins walking straight towards her.

Hermione stood on edge, clutching her Herbology notes a bit tighter to her chest. There haven’t been many fights breaking out between the Slytherins and Gryffindors the past few weeks but that didn’t mean there was peace. No outright fights that is. Pranks and name callings were still the norm. The quiet bullying.

Not to mention that next week would be the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin with the winner being hailed as the champion. And so, emotions were running a bit high.

They were a mix of sixth-year and seventh-year students. Hermione recognised Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson among them and knew this was not going to end well.

As soon as she spotted her, Pansy stopped, her face transforming into an evil smile. “Well, well, _well_ , if it isn’t Granger.”

The rest of the group tittered behind her, and Hermione decided it was time to leave and go back inside the castle.

But before she could take another step, Pansy stood in front of her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Hermione fixated her with a look of dislike. “Get out my way.”

“Why? Are you scared that you’re here all alone? That we might do something?”

Hermione’s hand inched inside the pocket of her cloak, gripping her wand. “Do you really think it’s wise to go up against me, Parkinson?

“Well, I count five of us and one of you,” Pansy drawled.

Hermione quickly whipped out her wand but Blaise was faster.

“ _Expelliarmus_!”

It flew from her hand, landing in his and Hermione felt the fear finally slinking in.

“I don’t like you, Granger,” Pansy said, her eyes narrowed.

“Really? Because I thought we were the best of friends,” Hermione snapped.

Pansy’s jaw tightened. “Something’s been happening these past few months and I don’t know what it is, but there are rumours floating around.”

Hermione kept her face impassive.

“Rumours that you’re spending more time doing your Head duties with Draco.” Pansy gauged her reaction, but no flicker of emotion escaped. “Now, I don’t believe it for a second.”

“Then why are you telling me about it?” Hermione asked, her voice taking on a bored tone.

“Because Draco has changed and I wouldn’t have thought much of it if I didn’t catch him before Christmas break during Potions staring at you for the better half of ten minutes.”

Her heart jumped.

“And do you know how he looked at you?” Pansy whispered.

Hermione didn’t say anything.

“It wasn’t a sneer,” she continued. “It wasn’t hate. So _maybe_ they’re not just rumours.”

“Then I guess you have to ask Malfoy about it,” Hermione said and made to push past her, but Pansy caught her arm, wrenching her back and the Herbology notes fell to the wet snow, the ink beginning to bleed.

Hermione blinked and the fear turned into fury. “You _bitch_!”

“What did you call me?” Pansy whispered, eyes wide with shock, and the next second, she pointed her wand at Hermione’s leg and Hermione fell to the ground with a loud cry.

Her ankle was dislocated and the pain shooting through her body was immeasurable, she dug her hands through the snow, the cold seeping through her fingers and she looked up at Pansy with so much hatred, she wouldn’t have been surprised if she burst into flames right then and there.

Hermione raised her hand, trying to ignore the throbbing in her ankle and focus on the nonverbal incantation but the pain was too great.

“Trying to hex me?” Pansy laughed. “How about I break your arm next, you fucking Mudblood?”

Tears of frustration pricked at Hermione’s eyes. Pansy raised her wand once more, taking her time, lips curled into a cruel smile while Blaise juggled her wand from hand to hand and the others sniggered and laughed.

But before Pansy could go through with her threat, a hand gripped her forearm and Hermione let out an exhale of relief.

Draco Malfoy’s eyes weren’t blue and they weren’t grey either. They were almost black and he was snarling, his expression promising vengeance. “Get the _fuck_ away from her.”

“Draco?” Pansy said, shocked.

His grasp tightened on her wrist and she almost yelped in pain.

“I’m _not_ going to repeat myself,” he said in a dark tone and Pansy immediately stumbled back, not believing what was unfolding in front of her.

Draco turned towards Blaise and, without asking, swiped Hermione’s wand from him before crouching beside her.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his eyes turning back blue in the light. Full of worry.

Hermione shuddered, swallowing hard. “She—uh—she dislocated my ankle. I can’t move.”

His jaw clenched. He tried to touch her ankle but she hissed in pain, and the tears finally slid down her cheeks. The anger in his eyes was immeasurable and he stood up, instantly pointing his wand at Pansy. Pansy flinched and the rest of the Slytherins were staring at him as if he sprouted two heads.

“How _dare_ you?” he snarled, advancing on them.

Blaise finally recovered. “Draco, what the _fuck_ are you doing? What’s happening?”

“I’m going to kill you is what I’m going to do,” he replied, and his robes ruffled in the wind. But Hermione wasn’t so sure it was the wind. There was something dark in the air. The temperature dropped a few degrees and the clouds huddled together.

“ _Are you protecting the Mudblood_?” Pansy almost shrieked, finally comprehending what was happening. 

Malfoy growled. “Don’t _fucking_ call her that!”

He flicked his wand and Pansy fell to her knees.

“Draco, have you lost your mind?” Blaise shouted.

But Draco didn’t answer him, swiping his wand one more time and a red cut appeared on Blaise’s cheek. Blaise groaned, his hand flying to his cheek. Draco’s shoulders were shaking, and he turned towards the other three standing Slytherins. “Do you want to be next? Because I will annihilate you with my bare hands if need be.”

They needn’t be told twice and immediately ran away, nearly stumbling on their feet.

When Draco looked back at Hermione, all the wrath vanished and he dropped to his knees in front of her.

“Love, you’ll be okay,” he murmured, brushing her hair back and cupped her cheeks. His fingers were cold and swirls of clouds escaped from his lips.

She nodded, holding on to her leg, trying to breathe through the pain. Draco pointed his wand at her ankle.

“ _Bracklum Emendo_!”

She cried out, lurching forward as her bones cracked together and reattached to her joint. He caught her shoulders, holding her steady. Her breaths came out harsh, sweat trickling down her cheeks despite the cold. She felt him hook his hands under her before lifting her to his chest and he stood up.

Pansy and Blaise were still looking at them with disbelief. Pansy didn’t dare move from where she was on the ground and Blaise held his cheek in his hand, blood dripping on the snow.

“If you come near her, if you hurt her,” Draco said in a low voice and Hermione shivered, watching the way the rage returned to his features. It was like a silent ocean on a moonless night, hiding horrors below the surface. “I will destroy you. You won’t get away with just a cut. You’d be lucky if you got away with the skin on your back. And that’s a promise.”

And with that, he turned away, walking back towards the castle. He didn’t say one word, and Hermione’s cheek was pressed against his chest, the thudding of his heart racing and racing. His hold on her tightened as if he were scared she was about to disappear from his arms.

“I can walk,” she whispered after a few minutes, daring to glance up, but his expression was steel, staring ahead. He looked like the Draco Malfoy she first knew. Cold and ruthless.

He didn’t answer her and Hermione didn’t repeat it. Instead, she huddled closer to him, taking comfort from the sound of his heartbeat and his pine scent that enveloped her nose.

And with each step he took, she slowly realised what had just happened. It trickled in her brain in raindrops before it showered like rainfall. 

Their secret relationship had reached its conclusion.


	9. Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! 
> 
> Thank you to you all who left kudos and commented for some more chapters <3  
> You guys are seriously the best! Sorry I've been away but I had finals and those things were a drag, ugh. My inspiration was low after but today I saw this art https://twitter.com/elithienart/status/1288520411479646208 that Elithien posted and what can I say? I'm a Dramione believer forever T.T
> 
> Hope you enjoy! And yes there will be another chapter! 
> 
> !!! MATURE CONTENT IN THIS CHAPTER !!!

* * *

Curious faces peeked through the Great Hall’s doors as Draco set her on the Gryffindor table, sitting on the bench to check her ankle. Many already in the Great Hall were stunned into a stupor, spoons clattering in bowls and fists banging on chests before they suffocated.

“Does it hurt?” Draco asked anxiously, gently pressing against the bone and Hermione braced herself against the expected pain. But it didn’t come.

She shook her head. “It’s fine.”

His thumb stroked against her bare skin and she let out a sigh. “Are you sure? I think we should see Madam Pomfrey just in case.”

“Let me try walking,” she said and hopped gingerly off the table with Draco holding her forearm. She applied pressure on her foot and, to her relief, no pain shot through. She smiled at him. “Your spell was perfect.”

Draco smiled back, but he still looked nervous.

“Let’s go to Madam Pomfrey if it’ll put your mind at ease,” she laughed and he nodded, handing her her wand back.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, supporting her and when they both looked up, they came face to face with half of Hogwarts’ students—Gryffindors, Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws— staring at them like they just sprouted three heads.

“Oh fuck,” Hermione groaned. “Draco, let’s leave before they bring out the pitchforks.”

They trudged forward and the masses separated for them, no one daring to say anything.

She took small steps and when they neared the infirmary, they nearly ran into Harry and Ron who looked as if they were sprinting towards the Great Hall.

All four of them froze and Hermione could feel Draco tense.

Harry and Ron’s eyebrows raised in unison before a deeply confused look settled on their expression that turned into rage when they saw how close Draco was to her.

“Malfoy, what the fuck did you do?” Ron finally thundered, his cheeks growing red, inflamed by the freckles.

“Let her go,” Harry said darkly, taking out his wand.

“He did nothing,” Hermione answered sharply and the two boys’ heads whipped towards her so fast she couldn’t almost feel the whiplash.

“ _What_?” they said in unison.

“He did nothing,” she repeated. “Now let us through. I want to see Madam Pomfrey.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Hermione?” Ron said incredulously. “Jane Browley saw a group of Slytherins ganging up on you and came to call us. What is _happening_?”

Hermione’s hand slid to Draco’s holding it tight and both Harry and Ron’s eyes followed the movement.

“What the fuck?” Harry swore.

Ron’s eyes widened. “You’re not—”

Hermione stood taller. “I am and it’s none of your damn business. Let’s go, Draco.”

Harry raised an arm, stopping them from passing. “No. It is our business, Hermione. You’re our _friend_! Are… You’re… You’re dating _him_?” he threw the last word with a dirty look at Draco, whose eyes only narrowed with contempt.

They didn’t say anything.

“What the fuck are you playing here, Malfoy?” Harry spat, shifting his anger towards him. “Do you really think we’ll let you get away with it?” He took a step closer until he was nearly nose to nose with Draco. “I won’t hesitate to break your bones right here and now. And it’s a good thing for you we’re right in front of the Infirmary.”

Before Draco could snap back a reply, Ron growls, “I don’t want to hear what this jackass has to say.” And starts towards him, wand raised but Hermione moved faster, flicking her wrist and Ron was thrown back against the wall.

“Stay away from him,” she snarled.

The confusion finally evaporated from both their faces, replaced with shock and betrayal.

“How could you?” Ron whispered, straightening up. “Are you… are you _fucking_ him?”

The look he gave her could have melted mountains and Hermione felt the sting of it under her skin.

Finally, Draco said in a dark tone, “Don’t you fucking talk to her that way, Weasley.”

Ron laughed. “I’m not talking to you, ferret boy.” He turned towards Hermione, hurt in his eyes. “Is this why it didn’t work between us? _Huh_? Because you had your heart set on _this_ _asshole_?” He blew out a puff of air, brushing his flaming red hair back. “You never even gave us a chance when you were pining for the enemy. Merlin’s Beard Hermione, did you seriously let him _touch_ you? God, you’re pathetic. I can’t even look at you. You’re worse—”

 _SMACK_.

Ron’s staggered back; eyes stunned and cheek red with Hermione’s palm.

She raised her hand again. “I don’t need magic to teach you a lesson,” she said quietly. “Don’t you _dare_ assume anything about me. Don’t you dare even _think_ you can presume what is and what isn’t good for me. This is _my_ life. _Mine_. Do you _fucking_ understand that?” Her eyes blazed with anger, tears burning through the capillaries.

Harry was looking at her as if he didn’t know her and then shook his head. “I don’t know who you are anymore.”

Hermione’s chin trembled. “I’m _me_.” She took a deep breath. “I’m me. But I chose to look past the hatred and anger and meaningless hate between our houses.”

Ron chuckled hollowly. “Meaningless hate? Tell that to all the people who his _parents_ have killed.”

“His parents,” she repeated. “Not him.”

“Oh and he’s not a Death Eater in the making?” Ron snapped back. “Holy shit, Hermione, has he really wrapped you around his finger that you can’t fucking see what he truly is? He’s a bigot and a racist.”

A muscle worked in Draco’s jaw. “I don’t have to explain myself to you, Weasley, but the only bigot and racist I see is the one in front of me who can’t accept a person who changes.”

“Fuck you!” Ron spat. “And your bullshit change excuse!”

Hermione took a hold of Draco’s hand again and pushed herself against Ron’s shoulder, walking towards the Infirmary. “We’re done here,” she says. “I’m not having this discussion with either of you.”

“Yes, go be his fuck toy until he tires from you and then come back crying to us,” Ron sneered.

Draco’s grasp tightened in hers and she knew he wanted to punch the living daylights out of Ron but she dragged him inside the Infirmary.

Before she closed the door, Harry threw her a hurtful look before turning away.

She let out a deep sigh, her back against the door and closing her eyes for a second before opening them. To her relief, the Infirmary was empty.

“Well… that went better than I expected,” she finally said.

Draco looked at her with disbelief. “Come again?”

She shrugged. “I expected at least three curses and one bloodied nose. Neither of that happened.”

“It doesn’t mean it went well!”

“It wasn’t worse.”

“We really need to talk about your expectations, sweetheart,” he said and then he stepped closer and cupped her cheeks. “I’m sorry about what that complete buffoon said to you.”

She smiled lightly. “I’m all right.”

But she wasn’t. She knew— had expected the lash out, and even though she tried to prepare herself for it, it still felt like a knife pierced deeply in her heart. Harry and Ron were her best friends, her family at Hogwarts. They survived trolls and Death Eaters and Voldemort and deaths together. Their relationship was forged tightly. The fact that they wouldn’t accept her decision was breaking her heart.

And Draco could see all that. He pressed a light kiss to her lips before sweeping her off her feet.

She yelped, immediately clutching to his shoulders. “What are you doing?”

“Carrying to a bed,” he answered, kissing her forehead. “You were injured, remember?”

“And you healed me.”

He set her down on the furthest one and patted her head. “Let me get Madam Pomfrey and we’ll see about that,” he said kindly.

Before he left, he drew the curtains around her tightly and Hermione settled on the down pillows, pulling the covers over her head. The buildup of tears finally flooded out, leaking down her cheeks and she cried her heart out, carefully trying not to make any loud noise.

After ten minutes of her feeling sorry for herself, she began to wonder where Draco was with Madam Pomfrey. Surely she needn’t that long to check on her? Madam Pomfrey was known for her hen-like personality at making sure her students were given the best care. That thought halted the tears and after a few moments, Draco returned with her.

As Madam Pomfrey checked on her, Draco watched with worried eyes, leaning on the opposite wall, and Hermione realized he had let her cry herself before getting Madam Pomfrey. Let her have that moment to be vulnerable and sad and her heart squeezed with love for him.

“Well, Mr. Malfoy did an excellent job with the healing spell,” Madam Pomfrey finally said. “You have the makings of a Healer.”

Draco blinked, surprised. “Thank you.”

Madam Pomfrey nodded. “But I’m keeping you overnight, Miss Granger, just to make sure everything is all right.”

Hermione had expected this so she nodded.

After Madam Pomfrey left to her office, Draco drew the curtains again, enveloping him and Hermione in a small cocoon.

“Come here,” Hermione whispered, scooching over and Draco needn’t to be told twice.

He laid down on his side beside her and she turned towards him.

There was a nervous tremor running through him.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Are you going to regret this?” he whispered. “Being with me?”

Hermione shook her head. “Not a million years.”

He swallowed hard. “I mean if Harry Potter himself, the symbol of hope who’s supposed to see the good in everyone, doesn’t—”

Hermione put her fingers over his lips, quieting him. “Darling, I don’t know if you know this, but I really don’t give a fuck what Harry thinks about our relationship.”

Draco smiled.

“Besides, I am Hermione Granger,” she continued. “Brightest witch of my age. Do you really think Harry could have survived past his first year if it weren’t for me?”

“I highly doubt he could have.”

“Exactly.” She smiled and then in a more serious tone, she said, “Today was the first attack. Tomorrow, we’ll have new enemies.”

His eyes creased. “Yes. And we will face them. Together.”

Hermione caught his hands, lacing her fingers through his. “I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered. “So, so much.”

Draco loosened a sigh.

“I’ve missed being with you,” she murmured, drawing his hand further down. “Didn’t you say you would make your words come to life?”

He shuddered. “Hermione,” he said in a throaty voice. “You just—today has been traumatic and—”

“I want to forget,” she said, inching his fingers under her skirt until they were a ghost of a touch on the elastic band of her panties.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, his grey eyes shining with lust.

“Please,” she whispered. “I’m aching for you.”

Draco let out a low growl before kissing her and Hermione fell over the pillows again with Draco hovering over her. His fingers disappeared under her panties, inching them out of the way, and he touched her. She gasped, arching her back and her body came alive.

“Oh, _Draco_ ,” she breathed out.

With one arm resting over her head, holding him upright, his other fingers teased her until she was on the brink of ecstasy. She clutched to his neck, trying to keep quiet lest Madam Pomfrey investigated what was going on. But Hermione wouldn’t have been surprised if she already knew and was staying in her office with a spell cast so she couldn’t hear anything. She had given Hermione the birth control potion, educating her on safe sex and how to embrace her sexuality. Besides, she hadn’t told Draco off.

Hermione moved in rhythm to Draco’s fingers, moans spilling from her lips that he kissed away.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this way too much,” he said in a low voice, pressing his forehead against hers.

“You,” she gasped out. “I need _you_.”

He blinked at her before taking out his fingers and her body protested, but he was considerably fast at unzipping his pants and Hermione’s hips involuntarily jerked upwards.

When he slid inside her, Hermione felt a pleasure so intense, her eyes crossed and she momentarily forgot how to breathe. He buried his lips in the side of her neck, snaking his arms around her.

“Never part from me,” he said into her skin. “ _Please_.”

“Never,” she vowed.

It was a promise she turned into a spell that would bind her forever.

They fell apart at the same time, their chests heaving in sync. Draco collapsed to his side, his hair matted against his forehead, staring at the ceiling as he tried to regain his breaths.

If humans could glow, Hermione was sure she was glowing. As was Draco. It should be impossible for someone to be so beautiful, but here he was beside her, shirt unbuttoned and the sheet carelessly thrown over his waist.

He propped himself on his arm, turning towards her and a sleepy smile caressed his lips. “Never?”

She smiled and kissed his cheek. “Never.”

Blue trickled through the grey in his eyes and he winded his arms around her, drawing her close. “Next Christmas, we’re spending it alone in our apartment. No families.”

“I’d like that,” Hermione whispered. “You, me and Crookshanks.”

Draco chuckled, nuzzling his nose in her hair. “And Crookshanks.”


	10. Ally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I'm partial to some Slytherin characters who I feel were neglected in the books?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy!!! 
> 
> Thank you so much for all your comments and cheers! Truly they make my entire day!!! I'm not kidding!!! 
> 
> Of course there will be another chapter!! I don't plan or outline the chapters at all. I just have a fEeLING of what it'll be and I go with it. A lot of the times, the characters surprise me with their actions! 
> 
> But I can tell the next chapter will be angsty! 
> 
> Hahaha no smut in this chapter but there is kissing.

* * *

Hermione sighed, putting down her book forcefully on the bench in the courtyard, throwing a glare towards a couple of staring fourth year Ravenclaws. “Can I help you?” she snapped.

The Ravenclaws jumped, hastily scurrying away, whispering between themselves and shooting Hermione furtive looks. As well to the person sitting beside her. Draco Malfoy.

It had been a strange couple of days. Draco hadn’t left her side since she was discharged from the Infirmary, and when they’d made it to the Great Hall for breakfast, they were greeted with stony looks from both the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables while the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws stared with shock. And so Hermione and Draco decided to have their meals far away from the Great Hall or come back after it was mostly empty.

Right now, they were outside with a plate of buttered toast and bacon beside them. Draco had propped one foot on the edge of the bench, leaning his head against his arm as he stared at Hermione. He hadn’t even spared the Ravenclaws a glance.

“What?” she finally asked, turning towards him.

He gave her a small smile. “You’re incredibly sexy when you’re pissed, you know that?”

She rolled her eyes. “The devil-may-care attitude is very concerning.”

He shrugged, wisps of silvery hair falling over his eyes. “You’re the only one I want to spend my time with. Why would I be upset?”

She blinked. “But… what about your friends?”

A dark shadow caressed his face. “Things haven’t been… the easiest back in the dorm. Pansy looks as if she’s going to burst into fire and Blaise can’t even look at me.” He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Crabbe and Goyle are their own now and I’d rather be stuck in cell with a dementor than spend a minute with them.”

Hermione let out a laugh. “I honestly never understood why you were friends with them. They didn’t seem like ones you’d have things in common with.”

He smiled crookedly. “It was more about having menacing-looking followers than friends.”

“Ah. Well, that makes sense.”

Draco breathed heavily, grabbed one buttered toast before catching sight of a small flock of sparrows that gathered beside them, all of their black beady eyes staring at the piece of bread.

He laughed and started breaking the bread into tiny pieces and throwing it at them. The birds fluttered their wings, squeaking as they tried to catch the crumbs in time.

Hermione stared at the gentle expression on his face. There was nothing of the old Draco Malfoy on him and she wondered if this was always his face. That all those years he wore a mask until one day he woke up and couldn’t distinguish the mask from what was real. And now… _now_ he could.

With his eyes on the sparrows, he said, “Why are _you_ looking at me like that?”

A smile tugged her lips and she reached over to ruffle his hair. “I was just thinking how lucky I am.”

He blinked, throwing the last piece of bread to the sparrows, and five them lunged on it, tearing it between their tiny beaks.

He turned towards her, pale cheeks pink with the cold and shyness and scooted over to her.

“That’s my line,” he murmured and kissed her.

Hermione’s veins flooded with warmth and she leaned into him, grasping at the lapels of his coat and pulling him closer. It was a joy for her to be able to kiss him so openly now that their secret was out. The hiding and sneaking around had its own thrill, but she wanted to show him off to the world. She wanted everyone to know that _the_ Draco Malfoy’s heart belonged to her.

She hadn’t spoken to Harry or Ron ever since they confronted each other three days ago. They sat separately in classrooms as whenever she and Draco shared classes, they would sit together. The professors had noticed and McGonagall only raised one eyebrow when she saw the new seating arrangement but said nothing.

During lunchtime, if she wasn’t with Draco, Hermione was either alone or joined by Ginny when Ginny would return from classes or Quidditch meetings. She couldn’t lie and pretend it didn’t break her heart to see Ron scowling at her, pretending she doesn’t exist or Harry’s hurt expression, but she was even more heartbroken that they would refuse to change their minds—that they would cling to their wrong beliefs like this.

But it wasn’t just them. The entirety of the Gryffindors had been icing her out. The temperature in the Common Room was frigid at best and downright tense. And so Hermione would spend much of her time away until curfew where then she’d sneak inside slowly and head straight to bed.

But she didn’t want to think about that with Draco kissing her.

She sighed against his lips and he smiled. The kiss was sweet and his fingers trailed over her cheeks. It turned slow, promising so much. And she wanted it all. She wanted all of him.

“Traitor!” yelled someone and they quickly broke apart, searching for who it was. 

Draco’s eyes narrowed with anger and he stood up, but whoever it was, was long gone. Sadness weighed heavily on Hermione’s heart like an anchor and a heat crept on her cheeks. She hated feeling as if they were doing something wrong.

Draco let out a disgusted noise and turned towards her, eyes widening when he saw the expression on her face. “Is something wrong, love?”

She smiled weakly. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but… I can’t wait for school to be over.”

He smiled back.

And then a third different voice behind them joined—drawled, “Me three.”

They whipped around to catch sight of Blaise Zabini, leaning against one of the courtyard’s pillars with his signature haughty look.

“Blaise,” Draco said, his voice void of any warmth towards his best friend. His own expression was cautious, calculated. Almost like a warning, and Hermione heard it.

“Draco,” she whispered, holding the edge of his arm.

“Granger,” Zabini said. “There now we all said each other’s names.”

He approached them with a casual air, hands in his pocket and a smirk on his lips. Hermione could easily see how these two boys would be friends. The rich aura surrounding them, the better-than-you sensation they emit, and the carelessly handsome features.

“What do you want, Blaise?” Draco asked, his eyebrows raised. “If it’s a fight—”

Zabini raised his hands and shook his head. “No fight. Just came to talk.”

Hermione blinked. “Why?”

He gave a long, noncommittal shrug. “Isn’t that what the both of you wanted? For us to hear you out?” He glanced at her ankle. “Sorry about that. Pansy can get… a bit enthusiastic.”

Hermione scoffed but she was still taken aback by the apology. Did _Blaise Zabini_ just apologize to _her_? But then again, she was sleeping with Draco Malfoy, so anything’s possible.

She and Draco exchanged glances and she nodded her head towards Zabini. “I handled Ginny. This one’s yours.”

Draco gave her a small smile before filling Zabini on the whole story. Hermione watched him closely, the arched surprise of his eyebrows and the remnants of a sneer on his lips that vanished bit by bit. Word by word. His questions were in the same manner as Ginny’s. And then he fell silent, staring between them.

Finally, he said, “So this _thing_ between you two, it’s worth it? Worth being made into pariahs? Being shunned?”

They both nodded at the same time.

Zabini chewed his lower lip. “You do realise that Hogwarts is but a sample of what the outside world really is, right?”

Hermione frowned.

Zabini saw their confusion and laughed. “Come on. Do you really think once you leave Hogwarts the wizarding community will embrace you with open arms?” He looked at Draco. “What about your parents? I’m sure you haven’t told them about your girlfriend here but that doesn’t mean others haven’t.”

Draco blinked and his eyes narrowed. “Who told them?”

Zabini shrugged. “Honest to Merlin, no clue. It could be more than one person. A couple of people who want your downfall. It’s not restricted just to Slytherins who feel betrayed. Point is, they know. It’s being whispered about in hallways.”

Draco groaned, holding a hand against his forehead and Hermione felt the stirrings of unease awaken in her stomach and heart. Draco had promised she would be his whole world. That if it came down to her or her family, he would choose her. She believed his words then and she wanted to believe them now. But she could see the tension in his stiff arms and the tightness in his jaw. Would he still choose her?

“That means Father will come here,” Draco said, his voice sounding hollow. He sighed before sitting down heavily beside Hermione who only stared at him with apprehension. “Soon.”

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks, Draco, right?” Zabini asked suddenly and they both looked up at him with surprise. “If you’re in love with Granger, then you can’t change your heart. Do you want to be miserable for the rest of your life, following the orders of a man who doesn’t really have the cleanest slate?”

“Are you… are you supporting this?” Draco asked incredulously.

Zabini snorted. “I guess I am. Huh, to think that I, Blaise Zabini, Hogwarts’ most eligible bachelor and sought-after playboy is much better at handling this than the famous Harry Potter and the courageous Ron Weasley.”

He glanced at Hermione and put on his seductive smile. The one that had even Gryffindor girls questioning whether they should risk their loyalty and integrity for a night with him. “I always thought that in another lifetime, you and I would be friends, Granger.”

She let out a surprised laugh. “Did you really?”

Zabini leaned forward until he was so near to her, she could see how rich in colour his brown eyes were. The perfect straight nose and the high, sharp cheekbones. “We’re both insanely smart. Attractive. And I can see the same shrewdness in your eyes that live in mine. You and I, we would have been thick as thieves.” Then his voice trailed into a purr. “Maybe even more?”

Suddenly he was shoved from her line of vision and she looked up to see Draco’s annoyed expression and his wand out. “That’s enough of hitting on my girlfriend, Blaise.”

Zabini chuckled. “Now I get to cross ‘making a move on Hermione Granger’ from my bucket list.”

Hermione smiled. “Thank you, Zabini. Not for the bucket list. That’s weird. For listening.”

His lips turned into a lopsided grin. “Only a couple of thousand more to go, huh? And then the whole wizarding world?”

She stood up, linking her hand in Draco’s and looked up at him. “Eh, I’ve handled Professor Binn’s ten-hour monologue. I can do anything.”

Draco smiled warmly, but before he could say anything, a terrified-looking first year dashed towards them and all but chucked an envelope against Draco’s chest before scurrying away.

Draco caught it before it hit the ground and his whole face changed when he saw the elegant cursive writing dotted on it. Opening it, he took out the letter, his lips pulled into a thin line.

“Well,” he said grimly when he was done. “Father is here.”

And even though hope was a candle flaming in Hermione’s heart, the letter was a blizzard trying to destroy it.

Was this the beginning of the end?


End file.
